Lie to Me
by flamingfawkes007
Summary: Andy has to keep lying to Harry in order to keep her secret. As she grows close to him, the harder it is to admit. But what will happen when he discovers she could have saved his Godfather? Will her secret bring the death of Harry Potter himself?
1. The Night I Unwillingly Left New York

**_Disclaimer: _I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

My first mistake was staying home that night.

It was a Friday, another insignificant day of any insignificant week. And I really wasn't the person who got around much. My version of a date was between my favorite book and me. Might sound a bit geeky to me now, but they would never disappoint me. Books were the adventures I wished were reality, the getaway from my boring world. I could have adventures that would have never been possible, but they made Earth seem so bland. But boy, if I had only known then, maybe I would have hesitated.

Maybe.

I plucked my favorite book off the grand bookshelf I purposely made a show of in my room: _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. I ran my fingers over the smooth cover, taking in the design of Harry in the Department of Mysteries. I had always found the artwork of these books utterly amazing, the sketches as stunning as a Picasso or Da Vinci. Opening the book to nowhere in particular, I curled up on my bed and started reading, knowing exactly what was happening just by glancing at the chapter.

It was then I heard the screams.

At first I thought nothing of it. Probably the reckless children who knew nothing of controlling the volume of a voice. It wasn't that late, and their version of tag resulted in a few bloody elbows anyway. I shrugged it off and turned back to Dumbledore's somber speech. _"Neither can live while the other survives"_ . . . so calmly stated, but dooming Harry at the very least. It was one of the more gripping parts of the novel, anticipating the great books to follow it after. I reached over to my nightstand and cranked up the radio. I had hours alone at last and I intended to spend them wisely.

The screams only grew louder. Exasperated, I slammed my book shut and swung my feet over the edge of my bed. Part of me knew there was probably nothing I could do about it; kids would be kids. But it was something else that was nagging at me. My heart leapt up into my throat as my imagination took over, which happened frequently. It always made the simplest of things more exciting.

The door swung open and, as I stepped out of my doorway, I was almost blinded. An unnaturally searing light streamed into through my brother's bathroom window from across the hall. I lifted my arm to shield my eyes as I drew closer, waiting for them to adjust. Squinting into the brightness, a wave of heat slammed into me so quickly I retreated a step. The neighbor's house was on fire, flames whipping into the air. And I was right next to it.

I backed up until my bare feet touched the carpet the lined my room. Fear grabbed ahold of me like iron rope, catching my scream in my throat and making my heart stutter. I knew I needed to get out of my house in case the fire spread. I wasn't safe here.

That's when my front door burst open.

I jumped as the door literally clattered to the floor, torn cleanly off its hinges. Footsteps echoed against the wood floors like thick gunshots. I ducked into my room as a man's voice growled deeply from downstairs.

"Search upstairs. She's here. I can smell her."

_Search_ _upstairs_. I was upstairs. _She's_ _here_. They couldn't have meant me. Pairs of heavy footsteps thundered towards the staircase and I knew I had to move. I didn't even bother shutting my door completely behind me as I darted backwards so quickly the soles of my feet burned against the rough carpet. It was too late to escape through the window; they would only catch me halfway out. The bathroom had a lock, but if I hid there, they would know where I was immediately. And by the sound of my front door splitting into pieces, I doubted that any of the others stood much of a chance. I was too big to fit under my bed (and I had seen so many horror movies go horribly that way) so I darted into the closet, shoving myself behind a thin wall that slightly divided into a small cove.

Not a moment too soon. My door burst open and I flinched as it banged against the wall. There was the unmistakable shatter of glass, and the familiar clunk of my crystal Prophecy replica cause a dent in the carpet. Multiple objects smashed to the floor that I guessed were my books. I heard my sheets tear and the sound of furniture upturning. Stray music notes shrieked as my keyboard was thrown, cutting off as the plug was ripped from the wall. The floor vibrated as it crashed into pieces. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing it would all just go away.

It took me a moment to realize it was silent. That unearthing, shuddering silence. I brought my hands down from my face, where they had been pressed over my ears, as if to block out the sounds. I held my breath as the footsteps stopped. My pulse was racing, my heart going to burst from my chest.

I jumped as my shower curtain fell to the floor, so frightened that I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to hold back my own scream. And with a sickening feeling I realized something. There was only one more part of my room to check.

I tried to make myself invisible, but my closet was only so big. It used to be my notorious hideaway when I wanted to disappear ten years ago, though I had been five years old and small enough. My back was to the door as the intruder swung it open. Everything seemed to stop. I willed myself to not move or even breathe. The clothes around me suddenly didn't seem enough to cover me anymore, and the long black shadow that was my dress only seemed to cover part of my leg. I closed my eyes.

The house went quiet. I waited, silent tears streaming down my face, not daring to move. My lungs were bursting. Unable to wait any longer, I exhaled slowly.

My scream came too late as something latched onto my ankle, yanking me out of the closet. I desperately tried to grab hold of anything, my nails digging into the carpet until they burned.

That's when everything went black.


	2. Unbelievable Déjà vu

My head was throbbing, each pulse sending a fresh new wave of pain. Every hair follicle seemed to burn and the place behind my ear that felt like a wrestler had smashed me with a sledgehammer didn't exactly help either. I rubbed my head before my memory clicked. I remembered. Remembered the house on fire, the robbers, being dragged away. My eyes flashed open-

To look into a toad's.

I yelped, my cry scaling to the octave of a stereotypical cheerleader. The ugly toad blinked with large eyes as I tried to push myself away, a rough, itchy material burning under my palms. The toad croaked pleasantly, hopping forward as two large hands seemed to suddenly pluck it out of the air. The struggling toad make a slightly irritated sound as the hands made the thing disappear into a large bag, its large eyes widening as they disappeared.

"Sorry 'bout that," I snapped my head up as a boy in front of me zipped the bag with the toad inside in one swift movement. "He's always running moment . . ." He gave the closed bag a slight swat and the odd bulging movements stopped.

_Where am I?_ I sat upright, my head still swimming unpleasantly. I had been laying on a seat large enough to sit at least three people, and the boy across from me fidgeted on an identical one. But the room was hardly wide enough for me to spread my arms across. My hand instinctively ran through my dark hair, as it usually did when I was confused or stressed. But this was an understatement. I wasn't confused and stressed anymore. I was disoriented and panicked. The seat under me jerked and my hands flew out to catch myself as I pitched forward.

The boy looked up from his new struggle with the large trunk he was attempting to store away in the rack above his head. His round face was shining red and, when I looked closer, a slight purple, but he smiled at my shocked face as the room lurched again.

"Not used to the train yet?" He asked before returning to his battle with the trunk. At his words, I finally noticed the large window that overlooked a vast swiftly moving valley. The sun was starting to set, flashing between tall evergreens so quickly like I was watching everything in stop motion. There was the sound of a whistle, and a puff of black dust darting like a shadow skimmed past the window. I was on a train. I was on a freaking _train_.

"It's a pity the summer's gone by so fast, isn't it?" A dreamy voice spoke beside me. I started, turning to look at a wad of blonde hair that hadn't been there a moment before. A bright, flashy magazine was folded on her lap and her gaze was concentrated passed me, out on the window. She twisted around, studying my face with wide, pale blue eyes. Her eyebrows were so light I had to do a double take to make sure they were even there. Strands of her hair fell over her face, and there was a thin stick poking out from behind her ear like one of those jumbo sized pencils that had been popular when I had been in elementary school. A long string of what looked like beer caps dangled from her neck, though I could distinctly tell she was too young to be of legal drinking age. She looked oddly familiar somehow, but I couldn't place it even if I had tried; I was in a state of fear after waking up on a train in front of strange people going who-knows-where. Trying to keep calm, I opened my mouth to speak when they door slid open. And I jumped again, cursing myself. I tried not to notice how my hands were slightly shaking.

"Hello, Luna," a young girl with blazing red hair dragging a trunk as large as the other boy had been struggling with smiled, gesturing to the girl beside me. "Is it alright if we sit here with you?"

Luna. My heart stopped. I knew that name. I could recognize it from anywhere. Luna also meant the moon, which I had coordinated with her transparent, white-blonde hair. I looked back at the moon girl next to me . . . the brown haired boy with the toad named Trevor . . . the girl with amazing red locks . . . and the tall boy behind her with jet black hair whose green eyes, even behind thick rimmed glasses, seemed to find me.

I wish I could say that I handled everything really well. That I did everything right like I was supposed to. Sometimes I had thought of how I would meet someone I maybe thought was a celebrity. I'd be cool, play it low. They were just people too . . . right?

Later I would feel almost ashamed. As soon as I met eye contact with the boy who starred in my favorite books, I fainted.

…

"You think she's all right?" That was the red head girl. I was scared I'd faint again if I thought of her any other way.

"She looks as dreadful as you did when the dementor attacked you on the train," the boy with the oversized toad laughed.

"Shut up," another voice snapped. My heart stuttered again.

I was acting stupid. My imagination came crashing down as a sensible thought came into my head. This was all a dream. I sighed mentally. I'd wake up poured over my book back in my room. _Everything is a dream,_ I reassured myself.

If only I knew how wrong I had been.

I left my eyes closed, though I wasn't exactly afraid of what I would see. My head was leaning against something cold, which I guessed was the window. The seat under me swayed in a steady, almost serine, rhythm; I was still on the train. I discarded all my sensible thoughts, thinking, if this was a dream, I was going with it. I'd waited long for something as close to real life like this. None of my dreams had ever been this livid.

Peeking through my eyelashes, I glimpsed a head of brown hair as the boy – Neville. I needed to start calling him that – bent down to catch Trevor again. Apparently he'd been let out of the sack. I could hear her talking hastily to the boy who sat across from her, next to Luna. I couldn't help the feeling of butterflies. Ginny and Harry. It was like seeing your favorite movie star. Ginny was everything you pictured, from her blazing hair to the freckles sprinkled lightly across her face. Harry didn't look like Daniel Radcliffe at all. The face was _almost_ right though; the glasses had helped the actor a lot. This Harry had messy, dark black hair, a bit shorter than before Daniel had decided to chop it all off. His features were taller, slightly more exotic. My eyes scanned his face. No one was kidding when they described the color of Harry's eyes as emerald, for I could see the color distinctively from where I sat by the window. My eyes couldn't help but wander up to his forehead –

"You're awake!" Neville exclaimed, startling me so much that I jerked upright. I realized I had been opening my eyes slowly as I took in everything. They all turned to look at me at once, my own gaze concentrating on a spot on the floor as the sudden intensity became overwhelming.

"Are you alright?" Ginny leaned over. I had to fight the urge to pull away, as if I was afraid that if she got too close, she'd disappear.

"I think so," My response was hesitant, my voice coming in an embarrassing squeak. Trying to nonchalantly clear my throat, I sat up, rubbing the side of my head that had been pressed against the window.

"I don't know what happened . . ." I started to brew up a lie quick in the back of my mind. I couldn't possibly tell these people, real or not, that I had fainted at the sight of them. Nice way to break the ice. No way was I going to have this be a dream where the train starts flying. I wanted to keep it simple, just like the Wizarding World. If dreams could be simple. Or the Wizarding World.

"You just fell to the floor," Neville said. "We didn't know if you had tripped or fallen ill."

I laughed timidly. "Trains make me a bit sick." I had something else to say, but it caught in the back of my throat, stopped by the sudden realization of the famous English accents as Neville said the word 'or'.

"You gave us quite a scare," Ginny's lips curled into a slight smile. Her voice was soft and quiet, but I knew that if she wanted to she could kick my butt.

"I knew she was alright all along," Luna looked up from her magazine. I smiled as it was an, of course, upside-down edition of the _Quibbler. _"There were a lot of Nargles around your head." She said it plainly like it was an obvious answer.

Neville coughed to cover his laugh, turning quickly to reach out his hand. "I never got the chance to introduce myself. I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Andy – Andy Goodrich," I shook his hand with probably the strangest expression on my face. Trevor looked up at me with large, glossy eyes from Neville's other hand, somehow free of the duffle bag. Neville paused, staring up at me as if I was going to start mocking his name, but I had felt someone else's eyes on me ever since I had spoken, and the feeling made butterflies flutter around in my stomach.

"I'm Ginny." She didn't hold out her hand, instead nodding to Luna, who was twirling her cap necklace around her neck with a finger. "And I see you've already met Luna."

Luna didn't look up from her magazine this time, but nodded, her blonde head bobbing.

"And this is –" Ginny cut off suddenly. I had been trying not to look at him, but now it was inevitable. My mind somehow drifted back to the books and how Harry had always felt about people goggling over him. I thought how horrible it would be to step into his shoes on any day and be hounded down by people like an animal. It was like being Johnny Depp, or worse, Bieber.

"Harry," I think he only paused to see my reaction as the 'puzzle' in my head finally fit. But I was one step ahead of him. "Harry Potter."

I reached out to shake my hand like Neville had. It was a causally gesture and I caught his surprised face as he found out how coolly I took the sound of his name.

"Nice to meet you all," my voice wavered slightly as Harry's palm slid against mine, his fingers wrapping around the back of my hand. I could immediately feel his piercing eyes dart to meet mine, but I turned away quickly, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"My birthday was just over the summer, and guess what I got?" asked Neville, his face alight with some excitement. I was so thankful for Neville's rather random personality, saving me from having another awkward moment. Collapsing back into my seat next to a mumbling Luna, I tried not to bury my face in my hands.

"Is it another Remembrall?" asked Harry.

I chuckled, remembering how he had gotten it in an effort to improve his memory, which had just turned into a disaster. Harry looked up at me curiously and I ducked my head towards the window. I was the new girl; I wasn't supposed to know about that.

"No," said Neville, either ignoring or not even registering Harry's sarcasm. He began digging around in his bag. "But another one of those could be handy . . . I misplaced the old one, imagine that . . . No, look at this. . . ."

Something seemed strange. Not the fact that I had just appeared on a train with The-Boy-Who-Lived sitting across from me, but it was almost like déjà vu. I had heard this before.

Neville, with one hand still wrapped around Trevor, pulled out a gray, swollen cactus that looked like it had been left blistered in the sun for one too many hours too long. Ginny recoiled, scooting backwards towards the door as Neville tossed his bag to the floor so he could set the enlarged plant between them.

"It's a _mimblulus mimbletonia_. Grandmother got it," he said proudly. "They're really rare; don't even reckon Hogwarts has one of these in their greenhouse. I can't wait to show Professor Sprout."

Ginny's eyebrows knotted in doubt. "Does it . . . umm . . . do anything?"

"Loads," Neville beamed. "It's amazing when – here, hold Trevor for me, Harry," Neville dumped the toad into Harry's lap, who had to work hard to get his fingers around the slimy thing.

"Watch," Neville bent over to plunge his hand back into his bag and brought out a feathered quill, picking up the blistering cactus with the other. As he held the plant in front of his face, I suddenly realized why I had the feeling I had seen everything before. I had just enough time to dive down under his seat as Neville poked the plant with the tip of his quill, sending stinking green liquid all over the compartment. A girl's voice let out a shout and I heard the splatter as the explosion shattered in goop all over the compartment door. There were a few gasps and a muffled yelp through the glass, which I guessed were the innocent bystander, who stood peering through the ruined glass. The smell, which was already very pungent, was horrid. I gagged, coughing and ducking my head underneath my arm as if to get away from the wafting odor.

"I'm s – s – so sorry," Neville gasped, who had gotten a face full of the rancid stuff. I pushed myself off the floor. I had just managed to get right under Neville's feet before the plant had decided to detonate. "I haven't done that before, but don't worry, the sap's not poisonous to us," he added nervously.

There was green muck everywhere. Ginny's once long, straight hair was almost enveloped in the icky green goo, her face spared as she had managed to cover herself. Luna, who didn't even try to move out of the way, wiped a thick blob off her magazine. She huffed almost in an irritable tone, acting unaware to the rest of the sap that rested upon her face, legs, and the tip of her wand. But Harry had gotten the worst of it. Neville had ducked a bit under his arm, shielding his nose, but Harry, whose hands around the infamous toad, had no warning. Gagging, he spat a disgusting amount that had flown straight into his unprotected face, splattering his lips and teeth. His glasses had protected most of his eyes, but the lenses oozed. Even Trevor had been unable to escape. The toad was coated in a thin layer, blinking repeatedly as it fought to keep the sap out of its bulging eyes.

Neville peeked up from behind his plant, an expression on his face I had seen many times on my dog after she had knocked over the trash can and was left cowering under the intense glare of my mother. I did the only thing I could do then. I laughed.

The effect was almost instant. Ginny giggled and Luna joined in, her high-pitch crackle both of us out. Neville let out a nervous chuckle, looking at his friend next to him struggle to hold on to Trevor and wipe some of the goop away from his mouth. Harry managed a smile before Ginny quickly whipped out a stick a realized was her wand and, with a flick of her wrist, the green sap was gone.

It was all I could do not to let out a squeal. I had just witnessed magic for the first time . . . real magic. Everything that had been stained green was back to its original color, and there was even a clean, pine smell that hung in the air that hadn't been there before. I ran my hand over the cloth bench, feeling the dry material beneath my fingers. Biting down hard on my tongue, I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't possible faint in front of these people again, though my knees were starting to go weak out of excitement.

"You were so lucky," Ginny said. It took me a moment to realize she was speaking directly to me. I must have looked because she continued. "You didn't seem to get any of the sap on you, unlike us."

My breath caught in my throat. Luna leaned forward, her magazine once again shimmering in bright colors.

"Yes," she said dreamily. Her eyes appeared almost glazed. "It looked like you knew what was coming."

"Or she just has really quick reflexes," Harry mumbled, still rubbing the side of his face that had gotten the most oozing stuff, even though it was now spotless.

I thought quickly. "No, it's just I've read about those somewhere. It was just too late when I realized to stop anybody. I'm sorry."

Luna nodded and went back to her paper, fixing her wand behind her ear, though it still looked like she had a horn if you looked at her from the side.

"Oh! I missed a spot," Ginny was leaning over my arm. Her wand was out in a second and the small glob of sap on my arm was gone, but as I pulled away she grabbed my wrist, turning it over. I froze, suddenly frightened as she pulled my arm towards her, yanking me forward.

"These are unmarked robes," she picked up my sleeve. For the first time I noticed what I was wearing. My comfy Dr. Pepper PJs had been replaced by sleek black robes. My shirt was a dark gray, as was the skirt. My bare feet were now covered by leather shoes. The robes were a little big, and they bagged in the arms, making me appear as a bird in flight if I lifted them.

"Why aren't you wearing your house robes? We're almost there."

I glanced down at Ginny herself, noting the deep red fabric that lined the inside of her own robes, visible around the cuffs of her sleeves. I glanced between the two robes stupidly. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Abruptly, my mind ran blank.

"Really?" Neville gaped.

"What?"

"You moved here from France?"

"I did?" Neville could have been talking gibberish.

"That's what you just said!"

I had just said what? I was full American, living in New York for my whole life, having been out of the country only twice, to Mexico and Canada. Never across the Atlantic Ocean. Let alone France. I had taken the language in my earlier years of schooling, but moving here from France? That lie was even out of my league. What was I doing? It was like I had suddenly blacked out and had a complete conversation. I looked out the window, confirming I was still on the train. A normal train. It was almost like a safety net. That not everything was completely insane.

"You don't really have much of an accent," Harry eyed me curiously. I glanced out the window into the now moonlit sky. What? Moonlit? It had just been before sunset that I had remembered talking about France.

My mouth opened to respond to his statement, but I froze, gaping like a fish out of water. What was going on?

"I didn't know you could change schools halfway through graduation," Ginny mused softly to herself.

"Change schools?" I asked.

Ginny looked at me like I was smoking something. "You were telling us that you went to school in America since you were a child, staying with family, to learn better English before coming here for wizard school."

"I did? I did," I covered up instinctively. Why? I didn't know. At least I knew what I was saying now, but I wasn't forming the words myself. "Sorry, I told you trains make me woozy." My lips involuntarily formed a smile. I tried to tug it off my face, but I couldn't.

What was happening to me? I didn't remember anything about being French. But I couldn't take it back now. I tried to turn my head, but my neck suddenly froze, like someone was pushing against me. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. Abruptly invisible force disappeared so fast that my head smacked hard enough into the window to cause Neville to jump. I brought my arm up to my head quickly, gasping as I realized that this time my moves were intentional.

"Are you alright?"

I didn't know who said it, but I nodded vigorously, completely aware that I had caused everyone to turn to me.

"Mmmm," Luna made a sound that resembled a purr. "I wonder what they'll do. I guess you'll have to be sorted."

"Sorted?" I played dumb for my sake, though I knew very well what being sorted was. My head was still throbbing, not that it had ever subsided since I awoken anyway.

"_What?_" Harry suddenly said so roughly I cringed, thinking he was talking to me. It was Neville who made me realize something was wrong. He was staring wide eyed at the compartment door, his normally pink face drained of color. Ginny's own eyes narrowed, and I didn't miss the way her fist curled in her lap.

"Might want to check up on your manners, Potter," a boy now stood in the doorway of the cabin. Well, leaning on the doorway, I should have said. His features were almost exotic like Harry's, but while Harry's blended together, the boy's sharp chin and nose made his ears stick out slightly. But that's didn't mean he wasn't handsome. He would have held my attention for a few moments except for he was as white as the Crayola color that came in the 64 packs. Behind him were two other boys, both large in height and diameter, standing there like bodyguards. The robes they all wore were the traditional black, except for the clearly visible green lining. I didn't need to soak in his bleached hair and silvery eyes to remember his name.

I was looking at Draco Malfoy.


	3. The First Encounter is Never the Last

"Get out," Harry barked.

I couldn't suppress the pleased feeling that surged through me. It wasn't that I was witnessing one of the well-known verbal brawls between the two enemies, but I was happy that Harry hadn't been talking to me. Despite everything everyone loved about him, they would hate to be on the other end of his arguments, because I knew I would.

Draco only snickered, the action almost eerily familiar. "Or what?" His gaze crossed over the cabin. I couldn't help but flinch slightly as his cold eyes met mine; I instinctively let my gaze slip to the floor.

"I see that you aren't with the weasel and the Mudblood down the train. Dumbledore not think that you can handle being a prefect?" He motioned to the large, silver badge pinned to his chest. Everyone in the room turned to look at it and Neville, if it was even possible, turned even paler.

"You see," Malfoy continued, snickering again. "I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishment."

"Yeah," Harry said. "But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

With that, everyone burst into mocking laughter, and even I couldn't help the giggle that escaped through my lips. Malfoy sneered like a dog, his eyes flashing.

"How does it feel to be second-best to Weasley, Potter?" he asked mockingly, stepping forward into the compartment so that he was looming over Harry.

It could have been the idea of a dream that made me do it. I don't really know what possessed me, but suddenly I was standing on my feet. Maybe it had been the murderous look upon Harry's face that caused me to react. Maybe I really didn't want to witness a killing _quite_ so soon into this wonderful dream. My hand had gone instinctively to the pocket inside my robes, and my fingers had surprisingly latched onto something hard. Not thinking, I yanked whatever it was out of the pocket.

It wasn't until Malfoy looked down did I realize what I was doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of Harry's eyebrows rise. For a moment Malfoy paused, which let my fried mind figure out what was happening. I was pointing a wand at Malfoy.

A wand. Or it was just a really pretty and ornate tree limb, but I wasn't going to let myself think that. It was a real wand; I knew it. A sudden surge seemed to ripple through me like a small bolt of electricity. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I could feel the sensation of goose bumps crawl up my outstretched arm. It felt oddly pleasant, like a small shock you get from finally brushing hands with the cute boy in your English class as he passed you a pencil or the moment right before you dropped sixty feet on that insanely tall rollercoaster. It sent butterflies to the bottom of my stomach, and I couldn't help but smile a little. The wand itself was very dark brown, almost black, with small, very detailed vine-like swirls carved into the delicate wood. It was about the length of my forearm, maybe a little over twelve inches. And it was mine. I could just feel it as if it was a living creature, and it was like something inside me suddenly felt whole. It took all my strength to not bring the thing up to my face and caress it against my cheek. I wanted to run around in a valley like you see in the old movies when an old couple meet each other at last. It would be in slow motion, with flowers flying through the breezy air, me holding my wand like my true love. Seemed pretty stupid I would think that, but this was the next best thing I had been hoping for my whole life; next to my Hogwarts letter I had still yet to receive.

"Oooh," Malfiy taunted, raising his hands palm out in a fake surrender. "Got a new girlfriend, Potter? Not good enough for the weaslette?" He laughed lamely at his own joke. Ginny had started to go as red as her hair, but thankfully Harry was still glowering at Malfoy too closely to notice. The two goons behind him, who were undoubtedly Crabbe and Goyle, hooted along with him stupidly.

"He said get out," I growled and, without warning, blue sparks shot out of the end of my wand. They jumped back as the white-hot embers reached for them, one strand just missing the side of Malfoy's face. I almost leaped up into the air with him, as I had done nothing to make the thing practically come to life in my hands. Crabbe yelped as one of the sparks caught him on the back of his hand and he began to wave it around above his head, hooting and hollering like a confused ape. Goyle tripped as he tired to dodge Crabbe's flying fist. Instinctively, he reached out with a blind hand as he fell, grabbing a fistful of Malfoy's green hood. Malfoy cried out as Goyle yanked him off his feet, entangling himself in Goyle's vise-like arms as he desperately attempted to keep his footing. They hit the opposite compartment door hard enough to shake it.

"Get off – " Malfoy was struggling to get out of Goyle's grip, who had pulled Malfoy against his chest. "You stupid – get off me!" The two of them fought to stand, their feet sliding as if the floor was suddenly made of ice. Malfoy cursed, pulling his arms back to push Goyle off of him when his left elbow jabbed Crabbe in the face as he whirled around, hand still above his head.

"Ow!" Crabbe dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks, his head smacking into the wall with a deep thud. Malfoy, who had managed to get Goyle off of him, turned, his eyes blazing. His gelled hair was no longer smooth; strands of hair stuck up around his ears like small thorns. His tie was crooked and his shirt was no longer tucked into his pants.

"Get up," Malfoy nudged Crabbe with his foot, and none too gently. When Crabbe groaned, Malfoy growled, prodding him again. "Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard."

I was still standing in the middle of the compartment when Crabbe managed to stand, Goyle grabbing his friend by the armpits, dragging him onto his feet. Straightening himself, Malfoy stepped forward, his eyes blazing. I raised my wand without a second thought.

"I think you should leave."

Malfoy stopped short. He hesitated, glancing around long enough to see Ginny contorted face as she fought to keep herself from laughing. Harry was mocking Malfoy openly, his laugh causing Malfoy's eyebrows to furrow. Even Luna looked amused. Malfoy looked between my wand and me twice, but not before he sneered again, regaining his usual vile composure.

"Crabbe, Goyle," Malfoy barked and turned on his heel. The two idiots turned to follow him at the same time and stumbled into each other. This time I snickered and slid the compartment door shut with a bang.

"Wow Andy, you got guts," Neville said in awe. "I've wanted to do that for five years."

"Did you see how he fell?" Ginny wouldn't stop laughing. She probably couldn't. I turned around, leaning against the door nonchalantly, trying desperately to hide the fact I was still shaking.

"And then Goyle!" Ginny doubled over in her seat. She sat up just as quickly, her hair flipping around her like a halo of fire. "Ok, I'm done, I swear." She paused, biting her lip. "I won't –" She cut herself off as she burst into peels of laughter again, grinning wildly.

I smiled but decided it was the best to play dumb. I let out a nervous laugh and pointed behind my shoulder with my thumb. "Who was that jerk?"

I had been running through the possibilities of multiple situations even as I was speaking. What if I had let his name slip? Harry never addressed Draco directly and I knew I would have no way to dig myself out of that hole. Even if this was a dream, I was going to play it right.

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny spat, finally seeming to recollect herself. She wiped her eyes with the back of her palm. "The prat's been on Harry since their first day of school. I sometimes just want to . . ." She let her sentence wander off into thought, but she punched her right hand into her palm, and I got the message clear.

"Though I'm sad to say you've repeated just that," Harry said. He was still smiling, but his expression grew slightly graver. "Now that you've stood up to him he's not going to leave you alone."

"Hey, Andy, how old are you?" Ginny asked suddenly, her brown eyes questioning as she turned to me. "I feel rude not asking."

"Why would you?"

"Well, our grades are associated with our ages, and I was wondering . . ."

"Oh, yes, it's the same at the Institute," I said, sticking with the story I had _apparently _made up in a blackout. Well, I kind of took a flying leap about the whole Salem Witch Institute thing. There was no other school in the United States . . . right?

"I'm fifteen so that would make me . . ." I feinted confusion again, leaning my back comfortably against the glass door. It wasn't irritating me at all. In fact, my fingers had finally become still, the feeling slowly starting to return to the tips. At least I thought the more I heard it from them the more it made all that feel real.

"In your fifth year," Luna said for Ginny in her almost captivating, dreamy voice again. "Everyone in this cabin is, except for me and Ginny here." I could have sworn I saw Ginny roll her eyes at the statement and it took everything I had to hold back a giggle.

Suddenly the train lurched hard enough to knock around the trunks on shelves above us and I felt my feet slip out from under me. I yelped, my hands scrambling along the wall, trying to find something to grab onto. It was bad enough I fainted and here I had to go tripping. But it got worse. The train had just happened to jolt the wrong way and I flew sideways. Into Harry's lap.

I don't think I'd ever moved faster. In my haste to get away, I tripped again and, because the momentum still affecting the train as it screeched back into its normal speed, I couldn't stop myself from collapsing to the floor. My head banged against the compartment door. Through the glass, I glimpsed a few faces staring back at me, though they were holding onto the railing outside, also having been jostled by the train. But did they fall? Of course not. I felt the blood drain from my face as everyone turned to stare at me, even crazy Luna.

"You're even more of a klutz than Ron," Harry chuckled. I turned, embarrassed as Ginny laughed. I could feel the heat rushing up into my face already.

"Here, take my hand."

I stared at Harry's outstretched hand for a moment too long. Surprised, I didn't understand exactly what he had been telling me to do, even though the context had been extremely simple. But I hesitated for only a second, trying my best to ignore the almost pleasant tingling in my hand as our skin touched, but managed to smile. I glanced around at the laughing faces and had the strangest feeling . . . like I had finally found were I belonged, if only for one night.

Or so I thought.

"I just can't believe Malfoy fell!"


	4. Stagefright in the Great Hall

"Andy!"

I started, jolting as if someone had snapped a rubber band against my bare arm. Harry was by my side, one hesitant hand on my shoulder. My face had flooded red in an instant. That's what you get for being Irish; underneath my pale skin and freckles my blood shined like some kind of freaking bug. I hated it.

There had been a reason I had spaced out in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts. I was in the grand foyer of the castle. There were so many words I could think of at that moment that could describe what I was seeing. Majestic? Magnificent? Wonderful? Any, or all, of those words would have been perfectly sufficient.

I can't describe what had really happened between the time I had stepped off the train and into the castle. Ginny was kind enough not to ditch me in the middle of the grounds, though Neville had been snatched in the sea of people the moment we had stepped onto the platform. But the really freaky thing was there had been an extra trunk in the compartment. It doesn't seem weird as a statement, but in my excitement, I had almost made a bolt for the door when Harry had stopped me, asking why I wasn't going to take my trunk. My mouth had opened in shock and fear, because I had nothing to say. That's when the strange sensation I had felt before seeped through me again, sinking through my skin uncomfortably. My head felt light and airy, and I almost remember myself picking up something heavy. Then I was outside next to Ginny, with Harry walking up with a young-looking brunette girl and a tall, gangly red-head who was struggling with an animal cage and twisting a dark brown trunk in his hand.

I didn't complain when I suddenly found myself in a crowd, towing a trunk I had never seen before in my life, but checked the luggage in with an extremely stout man, (who I realized was Flitwick after we were finally inside) and followed Ginny's lead as if my life depended on it. But then Ginny was gone and I was left with the Golden Trio. And _that_ wasn't anything I had dreamed of at all. You see, it was . . . a bit awkward. Ron didn't say all but three words the whole carriage ride and all Hermione wanted to discuss was the academic statistics of the Salem Witch Institute. I kept waiting for the strange feeling to take over again, but it never did. Harry stared at the head of the magically moving carriage the entire time, looking as if he was going to be sick. It was only later I realized we were on the school grounds.

I could go on for hours just describing the Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Hermione was one of the girls who would be drop-dead gorgeous later in life, though at the moment she looked a bit uncomfortable in her own skin. Her hair wasn't exactly wild and bushy, but a few strands stood out from her first few hectic minutes as a Prefect, though whatever she lacked made up in her eyes, which were a beautiful deep hazel I couldn't escape from as she pestered me for more information of Salem life.

Now Ron . . . there were only a few words that would pretty much sum him up completely. His hair was his trademark, bright and wild, and his pale skin was covered in freckles. The resemblance to his sister was almost unnerving, because there was no way, even if they didn't share the flaming locks, that you could have _not_ known them to be related. I didn't take in Ron's entire height until we were finally sitting in the carriage, where his legs were folded almost up to his chest, even though the seats weren't even that small. And his hands were huge. It was a strange thing to notice, I'll admit that, but if he had been in the muggle world, he would have been perfect for basketball. They were literally twice the size of my own, but I was already known for having tiny fingers.

Back in the foyer, my brain seemed to stop functioning because when I looked at Harry my tongue couldn't form any words. So I just sounded extremely stupid saying "uuuuuhhhh".

But I was acting way better than when I had seen Hogwarts itself. I had cried, actually broken down. I'll say it and be proud of it. I bawled like a baby. But boy, was I embarrassed when Ron actually turned around to ask me if I wasn't going to drown myself in my tears. I made up some lie so quick I can't even remember it anymore. It was just so . . . I can't even find a word to explain what I was feeling. It was a long shot from the teenage girl who sat dreaming in her room about if there really was a Narnia in her closet, that Luke Skywalker would come to her house and ask her to become his apprentice in Jedi training, and maybe, just maybe, Neverland was real and Peter was just waiting for her in the star she could see every night, but only dream of what laid behind it. But I had seen Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Pavarti Patil, Hannah Abbott, Lee Jordon, Collin Creevey, and I could have sworn the Bloody Baron floated almost right _through_ me. I had stopped in the middle of the giant entry doors like a bump on a log and there wasn't even the possibility that I could have torn myself away from the vaulted ceilings, twisting staircases, and flowing tapestry. Peeves could have dropped a bottle of black ink on me that moment and still would have been perfectly content.

"You aren't going to faint again, are you?" Harry joked, though I could tell he was slightly serious about the comment.

"No, no," I sighed, tearing my gaze away from one of the tapestries of two wizards dancing. If I blinked fast enough, I could have sworn they moved. "Your school is just much bigger and more 'magical' looking, I'll say, than mine was in America."

"Even back in France?"

"Yes," I lied. I had no clue what the Academy looked like in France. All I knew was that they liked the color blue from the Goblet of Fire and there were ice sculptures at Christmas time . . . and that Fleur had personally said that their school was much more beautiful than theirs in everything. Oops. But as I looked around, I didn't see how that was possible.

"Professor McGonagall wants to speak with you," Harry said, pointing deeper into the main hall of the castle, where the grand staircase loomed dauntingly in the distance.

"Why would she?" I asked absentmindedly, later knowing that I had asked a really stupid question, being in my situation.

"Well, you are a new student here, so I guess you'll have to be sorted. How? I don't know. I've never seen anyone transfer schools before, you know, since there's Floo Powder."

His statement made so much sense that it made me a little nervous, even though I didn't know the reason I was here anyway. I mumbled a goodbye and started off on my own, weaving my way in between stray students who were still mingling in the entryway, gossiping over summer events. I made my way to the grand staircase, but paused as a grey tabby stepped in front of me. I guess I wouldn't had found this surprising and all, but I stopped and looked down curiously. The tabby sat perfectly balanced on its hind legs, its head held with purpose. I suddenly broke out into a grin as I recognized the spectacle shaped rings around its big green eyes.

"Good evening, Professor," I said politely, but secretly amazed that my tongue had the ability to actually form words. The tabby mewed once and suddenly I was looking at a pair of black dress shoes.

She was dressed in glinting black and green robes with her pointed witch's hat perched on her neatly combed hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. Her glasses sat low on her nose, like Dumbledore usually had his in the movies, but instead they were a full circle. And the fact I had just seen a real animagus transform in front of me was just as much to obtain. But I did not faint, or even feel the slightest bit woozy.

"This has never happened before, you are the first of this kind," She spoke like I was some kind of new species. It made me feel uncomfortable for a moment, but I knew how amazing the lady in front of me actually was, and decided it didn't exactly matter. I could try and describe what it's like to hold a conversation with the Head of Gryffindor, but I know there are no words for it.

The entryway was empty now, save for a sputtering, old man who was chasing after a black cat by the doors that lead to the Great Hall. Flitch was just as crazy as ever, and I couldn't help but smile.

"But I'm guessing we'll take it like any other newcomer here at Hogwarts," she sighed. "You'll be sorted as if you are a first year, but then placed in the fifth. Professor Dumbledore said that you studied hard in your early schooling and should have no trouble adjusting, even with the O.W.L.s. this year."

"Thank you," I had to force the words past my lips. A sudden thrill rushed through me. Dumbledore actually knew who I was, I was standing in the very place most of my dreams had taken place, and now I was going to be sorted. Maybe I was starting to feel lightheaded again . . .

But what was next wasn't what I was expecting. McGonagall led me through the doors and into the room that now held hundreds of students, all sitting at four extremely long tables. A man I could already recognize as Dumbledore was at the far end of the room, standing behind his winged podium. At the sound of his voice and open gesture, everyone turned as one to look at me, thousands of eyes all coming to rest on me at the same moment.

I had never been good with crowds really. Well, at being the center of attention would be a better explanation. That was probably a good thing, though it did put me in the one child left behind system, a saying for the invisible people out there. Once, in elementary school, I had been forced to give a speech for the whole class. I hadn't fainted, but I had tripped over some kid's desk and knocked my head so hard against the ground the teacher had me sent to the nurse. I was fine of course, and it did get me out of the speech. The other times were worse, hence, middle school of 2004. It all had started normally; shaking legs, a jittery voice, and cold fingertips. It was a presentation about something stupid. A way to 'break the ice', I think she put it. To get people to know you. Oh, my presentation did break the ice, as well as her Texas Tech stand on her desk. It was supposed to be a report on who you are. Yeah, some new people found out a bit about me and about what I had for lunch.

The Great Hall was so silent each of my footsteps echoed like a thunderclap. The only reassuring noise was McGonagall's clicking heels beside me, ushering me forward. If I would have been blind, I would have never known that the entire student body was watching me; all seven hundred of them. I'd never felt so nervous in my life. But I swallowed hard, making sure that I was keeping everything down that was meant to stay down. Professor McGonagall nudged me with her elbow in my back and I couldn't help that I stumbled forward, passed a table draped in blue tablecloths. Luna actually waved as I passed, and I raised a feeble hand in a sad attempt to return the gesture. I saw Fred and George Weasley sticking something in the pocket of a younger student, amidst to the poor young boy. I smiled slightly, my gaze trying to linger on Fred but having no clue who was who, I just moved on.

McGonagall was waiting for me by the time I had finish my trek, but now in front of the podium was a simple stool and one really old and ragged pointed hat. Well, I could tell it had been pointed at some time. The tip sagged and the rim was frayed with signs of age. She motioned for me to sit down.

"_Not Slytherin . . . Not Slytherin . . . Not Slytherin_ . . ." I chanted purposefully to myself as she placed the Sorting Hat on my head. If it was all too unreal to be true, I thought I was at least going to have some fun with it. The hat itself was so big it slipped down almost past my eyes, and the smell wafting from it had _me_ even think for a split second the fact millions of people had probably worn it. It didn't bother me as much as it should have, but I was obsessing over how real the material felt against my skin, even for a dream. I peeked through my eyelashes and saw Malfoy and his friends watching me coolly, but then my eyes almost instinctively wandered over to the Gryffindor table. The place seemed full of life, even though no one was speaking.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" A drawling voice whispered in my ear. I jumped, sending the stool wobbling. My feet slammed to the ground like I was trying to save a fifty-pound motorcycle from tipping instead of hollow wood. The sound echoed through the hall and a couple people laughed, though the Slytherin table seemed be lit aflame with smirks. Even if the thing that I was talking to was just a hat, it wasn't that hard to put two and two together; _not Slyth_erin. I looked at McGonagall, who just smiled one of those nervous, notability fake, confused smiles. Then at Harry, his black hair like a beacon in the sea of reds and browns, and who was bent over in silent laughter too. I knew I looked like a fool and steadied myself quickly, but not before I felt the familiar rush of heat surge towards my face.

"Not really, If you do mind," I whispered politely back out of the corner of my mouth. The hat was still for a moment before it answered, its voice so loud I could have sworn Dumbledore could hear, twenty feet back. But then, Dumbledore could see through invisibility cloaks and Apparate on school grounds, so what the heck?

"But you could be great, you know," the hat drawled in my ear. I giggled aloud and Professor McGonagall shot me a funny glance. Oh, the unknown jokes freaky Harry Potter fans get.

"You are older than I was expecting, I see," the hat said. "So late, why I ask? Though four years isn't much to a hat like me. But it doesn't matter, because I've already the place to put you . . ." It seemed to almost stop for dramatic effect.

I knew I would have rather poke my eyes out than be a Slytherin. Sure, not all were bad, but their reputation wasn't really the greatest. And I really didn't want to put up with Draco Malfoy and his gang. And then there was Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw would be my second choice; the home of the smart geeks. But I wasn't really a geek. Sure, when it came to random trivia to topics that are really unknown in the survival of man in the modern day world, but everything past common sense, count me out.

At first I thought I heard it wrong. Personally, I had no preference for any of the houses; I _maybe_ could have given Slytherin a chance if I had really wanted to. If Malfoy promised to keep his distance, well, really it was Crabbe and Goyle who frightened me the most. Malfoy was all bark, while if he told one of his goons to jinx the memory out of someone, they'd probably do it without a second thought. If they even had one to begin with, given the hint on their lack of knowledge throughout the novels.

"_GRYFFINDOR_!"

The Gryffindor table cheered and I barely noticed the weight of the hat disappear as it slipped off my head, back in McGonagall's arms. As I started to walk towards the table on my left, my eyes shifted through the sea of smiling faces to find Ginny waving franticly in my direction. It took all I had not to jog over to where she sat, as all eyes were still on me. I squeezed myself between her and Neville, who slapped me so hard on the back in congratulations I choked. Fred and George reached over the table several seats down to shake my hand while ignoring the many rude stares as they shoved their arms in other people's faces. Hermione smiled from across the table. Ron was next to her, with Harry at the far end next to a kid who I could only guess was Dean Thomas.

Dumbledore's voice then again boomed through the shouts and everyone quieted as if a silencing charm had been placed on the whole castle.

"Thank you everyone for welcoming Miss Goodrich into our school. We have two changes in staffing this year and are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Professor Umbridge?" I asked aloud, mostly to myself, scanning the staff table. The name had caught me so off guard, I barely even noticed Dumbledore had spoken my own.

"You know her?" It took me a moment to realize it had been Harry who had leaned over Ron to whisper to me.

"A bit," I whispered as Dumbledore continued.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the – "

Dumbledore broke off and looked at a lady I had no doubt in my mind was _the_ Professor Umbridge. She was standing, and there was a moment where no one understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, as she was no taller even sitting. But then I heard the infamous cough Umbridge did before the annoying –

"_Hem, hem_."

The room fell even more silent as everyone stared in disbelief that the lady had the nerve to cut Dumbledore off, but Dumbledore only sat down again, looking down at her expectantly, because now it was sure Umbridge had gotten to her feet to make a speech.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge said in such a high-pitched, girly voice I wouldn't have been surprised if she would have winked. As I stared at her hideous pink cardigan, I immediately felt a rush of dislike. And from Harry's expression, I knew he did too.

But I have to say I didn't listen to a word of what came next. After reading the book so many times, I bet I could have recited her speech by heart, but that just would have looked too odd even for the Wizarding World, so I watched others around me. Back at home, my family and I would call it _'People Watching'_. Not a very catchy name, I have to say, but we all found it hilarious. At least my dad had. My mom and brother had found it plain weird and embarrassing. And that's when I couldn't help but think of them. As the hours passed on, it was all becoming too real to be my dreams. My dreams always made no sense, never coming out in this clarity. As imaginative as I was, there was no way I could have made all this up in my head. Every plate I touched seemed real, every goblet was solid, and all the people I brushed past touched me back.

They would have come home to find the house empty. Had the fire spread to our house? Was that fire even _real_? Maybe I was at the hospital and the drugs they had put me on were so strong that I was able to dream this. But the thought that I never had gotten hurt nagged at me. Had the man dragged me out to save me because the fire had been spreading? As much as I wanted to, I didn't think that was the answer. It was the way his fingers had grabbed my ankle and pulled me out of the closet, leaving me with the feeling that bruises were slowly starting to stain my skin purple.

I went back to my _'People Watching'_ as my eyes started watering as I thought more about my family. I kept telling myself it was only a dream and they were all fine, but a small part of me didn't believe even that anymore.

Pavarti and Lavender were both making fun of Umbridge's overly pink outfit while other students began to chat amongst themselves, unlike when Dumbledore spoke. But Umbridge's breathy voice was still going when I glimpsed Luna pull out the Quibbler again from under the table, sliding a pair of huge, sparkling pink glasses over her nose before flipping the magazine upside down.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore said suddenly and the Great Hall became silent again as she sat down. "Now – as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

"Well, that was illuminating," Hermione said in a low voice, turning her head away from the Staff table.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said. "It was even duller than Percy."

"I never said that," said Hermione, her eyebrows scrunching at her future husband. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" Harry's bright eyes widened, suddenly hopeful.

"How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited?"

"Well, what does it mean?" Ron said impatiently.

"It means," I said. They all turned, unaware that I had been listening, "the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."


	5. Dream or Nightmare

It was when we got to the common room everything finally sunk in.

I immediately fell head over heels for the well-known burgundy and chestnut chamber the size of an entire first floor of a house. With the multiple grand fireplaces, cozy armchairs and walls upon walls filled with floor to ceiling bookcases, what was not to love? The ceiling was high, held up by a labyrinth of fragrant wooden planks, despite the age of the entire castle. The many tables, chairs, and sofas scattered throughout the room were all draped in deep red. Numerous quills and pieces of parchment were already littered some of the desks, usually with large, bounded, serious-looking volumes stacked in a towering heights next to it. The bookcases themselves held many (apparently mediocre by everyone's reactions) spellbooks that looked as if they would have belonged in a famous library, frozen in time behind glass. Everything was lit by candlelight, shadows of students and billowing curtains thrown upon the stone walls like watercolor. I had to refrain from looking out the window, even though it had seemed to beckon me constantly throughout the night. I knew that Gryffindor tower was high up in the castle, but for some reason, I really didn't care how far off the ground I was. I had never agreed with heights and heights had never agreed with me, but I was willing to let it go for the moment.

Everyone had resided to his or her own dorms as soon as the door had shut behind us. Or should I say the portrait. While I had been mesmerized by the interior of Hogwarts itself, I had _not_ been ready for the talking painting. Sure, I had been expecting it, but it had remained hidden in the back of my brain as I had gazed upon the moving staircases and suits of armor that gleamed in the torchlight. But the last thing I expected was to come face to face with a lady as big as the canvas that held her, shrilling madly in my face.

I let everyone go in through the portrait door in front of me. Nice manners, wouldn't you say? No, that's what I would have liked to say I did. Instead, I was still staring aimlessly up into the endless ceiling that I had only envisioned in my dreams. But this was a dream, so I guess that didn't really matter. I probably would have stayed out there the entire night if it hadn't been for Neville, who had to call my name out three times before I actually heard him. Of course, I turned as the color of a beet in two seconds flat, the awful red color spreading out like liquid over my entire body. I hadn't yet mastered the talent of blushing just in the cheeks, where it would be cute. Instead, I turn into a giant red fruit or anything similar in color, limbs and all.

The portrait shut by itself of course, but I jumped anyway and managed to jam my elbow into the solid stone corridor that led into the common room. At first I was distracted by everything in the room I didn't notice that slowly everyone was retreating upstairs. It was only when the room was entirely empty that I did a double take.

I had several emotions overcome me at that moment. It is hard to explain them on paper as clearly as they were in my mind, but suddenly I had lost all the excitement that had once flowed through me. Maybe it could be described as if someone had decided to hit a switch in my own body. Something wasn't right. Standing there alone in the darkening common room, I glanced down at my hands. They seemed normal enough, the pale glow of my skin illuminated in the candlelight. But then my eyes traveled over the black robe that adorned my body. I had even noticed that my hair had been fixed into pretty spiral curls that cascaded down my back. My hair never curled. It had been as flat as an ironing board since the day I had hair to actually brush. The only thing I had left of my own was my ring I always wore on the left hand my mother had given me.

In all my years of life, I had never been one of those people who had awesome dreams. Mine consisted of rather boring themes, though every once in a while I'd have a nightmare of my family being attacked by a rouge tornado that sadly didn't take us to a magical land, as we all perished. I had never really been a _dream_ person. I either slept soundly through the night, or I woke up in the early hours of the morning afraid to close my eyes again. But this wasn't a nightmare. It couldn't be. Everything was just too good to be true. My nightmares were always short. Long enough to make me wake up I in a sweat, but never going on enough to be as detailed as this. Everything was usually so blurry, everyone moved as fasts as ghosts and no one questioned the strangest things. I didn't know what to make of this, of everything that I was seeing around me and I paused for the first time. There were two staircases, both identical except for the fact they were on opposite sides of the common room. Even though I had thrived in my imagination when reading the series, I had no clue on which staircase to take. Both, I knew, led up to the dormitories higher in Gryffindor tower, but I didn't want to take the wrong one. As a girl, I could take whichever one I wanted, as it was only the boys that were forbidden to climb up the girl's staircase. I would have no way of knowing until I actually opened a door. And that could end up being worse than fainting in front of people if I got it wrong. Sighing, I walked straight towards the one on the left, determined to at least climb high enough to make a verdict.

As I was wallowing in my self-pity, I didn't notice the shadow that was slowly spreading along the wall. I probably should have been paying attention to my surroundings but I was starting to consider just curling up in one of the armchairs by the crackling fire until I woke up. It wasn't like it really mattered anyway, right? I probably wasn't going to be waking up there in the morning. Or anywhere near there.

Two things happened at once. Well, three. Someone, from the other side of the room, called out my name. The room, having once been eerily silent, echoed with the sound of the voice so sharply that I started. My foot slipped from the edge of the next stone step I was about to ascend and I stumbled, flinging my arms out to catch myself on something. Anything. And sadly, that anything was the shadow that, to my horror, was the last person I wanted to see.

I mean, sure, I was happy to run into him again. But not literally. I didn't want him to think of me as the girl who always fell on him in one sort of way or another. All I can say is that really wasn't working out at the moment. It wasn't that I had big feet or anything; maybe they were actually too small. But no, I knew what it was. One moment I was focused on something and then at the slightest distraction, I would just forget. And in this situation, I forgot that I was walking on a slick staircase the moment Hermione had called out my name.

"Whoa," the masculine voice was at my ear. Fingers latched onto my arms and I was left hanging dazed and limp in Harry's grasp.

"Andy?" Hermione repeated, her voice sounding fuller in the natural acoustics of the stone room.

I didn't want to seem stupid in front of them. First, I show up not knowing where I am and blacking out (once too many times on my account), asking too many strange questions that I had already, unknowingly, answered myself. And now this? Oh, and not mentioning tripping at least twice into the character that I had been so obsessed with since I was a little girl. Well, maybe not _obsessed_ because, when writing that down, it seems a bit too creepy for a ten-year old. But it wasn't like I was following him or anything. He was just . . ._there_.

"I'm – I'm so sorry," I pulled myself out of Harry's grasp, dropping down two steps so quickly I almost fell again. I stopped at the curve of the staircase, where Hermione's stunned face was illuminated in the low light. Harry stepped down after me, pausing to look at Hermione from over my shoulder. I froze, clearly aware of how close he was.

"Andy," Hermione said. "What are you doing?"

I think I would have rather smashed into the hard stone instead of giving myself more embarrassment that was quickly starting to visibly show on my face as the three of us stood there, waiting for me to answer. Standing there like I had been caught red-handed, I couldn't even begin to imagine what this looked like, me standing on the staircase that led to the boy's dormitory.

"I –" I didn't know how to form my words without it coming out completely wrong. And I wasn't having any luck. "When everyone –"

"I suppose it's my fault," Hermione sighed, stepping deeper into the common room. Out of the staircase that I now realized lead to the place I had been intending to go. I felt more blood rush up to my face, horrified. "We didn't notice until there was an empty bed." Her white nightgown was almost glowing in the light, whisking slightly in an invisible draft around her ankles. The pink robe she kept clutched around her chest with folded arms reminded me a bit of Umbridge's cardigan. Then again, everything pink was a remembrance of her.

"I'm sorry," I didn't know what I was apologizing about. It could have been many things but I had just wanted to fill the silence that had started to stretch from behind me.

"Oh, no, Andy, don't apologize," Hermione shook her head so hard that her some of her thick hair slid from the ponytail she had pulled it back into. "It was my responsibility, but I guess I was just so overwhelmed with this whole Prefect business."

"Which is why I am down here," Harry paused for a moment, and my breath caught as I felt his eyes stare for a moment at the back of my head, before walking past me to one of the tables that was closest to the portrait door. I took the rest of the stairs slowly, not trying to seem like I was in a hurry to get to the other side of the room. He still hadn't changed clothes, though the top of his shirt was unbuttoned and his tie and robes was missing. Not that I was looking. I tore my gaze away from him and back to Hermione's confused face.

"Ron, surprisingly, left his badge . . . here," he hesitated for a moment before picking up the large, gleaming piece of what looked like silver in the flickering lights. "He decided to take it off the moment he saw Fred and George. Apparently they have been mocking him all week. Why he just didn't put it in his pocket?"

"And why couldn't Ronald come down here and get it himself?" Hermione was clearly agitated. I would have giggled if I hadn't been still shocked into dumb silence.

Harry stopped. If it hadn't been for the darkness, I could have sworn he had been blushing. "He's a bit . . . busy at the moment. Well, goodnight."

I didn't believe him and I could tell Hermione didn't either. But before she could ask any more questions, Harry started back towards the staircase, mumbling a goodnight. I pretended to have a sudden interest in a feathery quill the moment he walked past, my eyes cast downward. It wasn't until he was at the foot of the staircase that he stopped again, though only a few seconds had gone by.

"Goodnight, Andy."

It took me a second to respond but I choked out what I really hoped sounded like the word goodnight, or at least 'night. But he was gone.

"I'll show you to our room," Hermione's eyes had lingered on the spot where Harry had been standing a longer moment than necessary, but she turned and was halfway up the _right_ staircase before I had noticed. I hurried around the multiple twits in order to catch up; we passed many floors before Hermione finally stopped and looked at me from over her shoulder. The door she had stopped in front of just like the others, except for the light that streamed out from beneath the thin space between the floor and wood. She knocked twice but didn't pause to wait for an answer before opening the door . . . and this time I smiled.

The dormitory was traditionally round, of course, filled by four giant poster beds. Or that was at least the main thing I saw when I walked in. It was hard to miss the flowing scarlet curtains and the deep colors of the inviting comforter. I recognized everyone, thankfully. Lavender was brushing her hair, cross-legged, on top of her bed, flipping through a magazine and Pavarti was finishing stacking her robes into the chest at the foot of her bed. Other than that, the room was empty. Hermione strode over to what I could only guess was her bed and hung up her fluffy pink robe on a waiting hook that was shaped like an owl's foot. I almost gasped when the foot actually reached out and took the robe from her hands, clutching it in a metal grip, but Hermione just sank back into her pillows, taking out a thick book about the width of my forearm.

I didn't stand ogling in the doorway for too long. Shutting the heavy wooden door behind me with a surprisingly soft thud, I slowly walked over to the only empty bed in the room, between Hermione and Lavender. I could probably spend hours talking about the dark furnishings, the glass window (that once I was brave enough to look out of) overlooked what I could correctly guess as the Forbidden Forest. There was also the same chest Pavarti and everyone else had at the foot of their bed. Along with a thick, black trunk that, to my surprise, had my name printed upon the side.

"Is that . . . is that _mine_?" As soon as I said it, I knew it was an entirely stupid thing to ask. But nothing else could come out.

"Of course, silly," Lavender looked up from the thin pages of her, what I now saw, had fashion ads everywhere. But I couldn't help noticing how the people wearing the robes and dresses continued to twirl and pose. "I'm Lavender Brown, by the way. And over there is Pavarti." She tilted her head quickly in the girl's direction.

"Patil," Pavarti said, flashing a quick smile from around the circular fireplace that stood in the middle of the room. Unlike the one in the common room, it was empty.

"They are sent up while we are eating dinner," Hermione explained it like I was confused on how the trunk had gotten all the way up there. But it wasn't that I was concerned about. It was the fact that I actually had a trunk and how real it felt as I fumbled with the metal latches before it snapped open.

Pavarti, now done with unpacking, slipped into her bed, tugging the curtains around her until she was completely hidden from view. Beside her, on a think wooden nightstand, a candle flickered and went out. Hermione said goodnight, in which she got a muffled reply as Pavarti shuffled around until she had presumably fallen asleep. Lavender, finished with her magazine, had begun plaiting her hair with a purple ribbon, mumbling to herself ways she could liven up her space.

I was still staring at the things within the – _my_ – trunk.

I recognized nothing. Everything was different. The dark fabric, I realized after taking it out to look at from arm's length, were robes, five of them to be exact. And, to my excitement, they were all lined in the same colored fabric that hung from the bedposts. I picked up the soft, white linen that had been folded at the top of the trunk, which I had set to the side; a nightgown and similar to the one Hermione was wearing. I looked around the room, almost expectantly.

Lavender dug through her trunk before finding a purple mask and jumping back into bed, covering her eyes in a silk cloth that read "Princess" in gold lettering. Hermione looked about ready to put her book down, which, unsurprisingly, she had already gotten a third of the way into. Looking back at the nightgown and then to the bed, I sighed. Sure, it was the now the strangest, but likeable, dream I had ever been in but, mostly to humor myself, I slipped out of the black robes I had woken up to find on the train. The nightgown was surprisingly comfortable and the bed felt like I was floating on a cloud.

I didn't bother closing the curtains around me. The moment my head had hit the pillow, weariness I had not felt before rushed through me. I sighed again, this time out of confusion. I had never been like this in a dream before. Everything was so vivid and all my feelings and surroundings were too real. But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind as my eyes closed.


	6. Too Real for Comfort

I knew something was wrong before I had even opened my eyes.

Maybe wrong wasn't the right word. Different. Definitely different.

At least I had been comfortable, though I can't really explain what had awakened me. To be honest, I had been awake long before a cat had decided to take a parade across my bed and she, of course. I was in shock to hear Hermione's voice.

It must have been the sunlight that had started to creep across my bed that woke me from my deep slumber. And I had even woken refreshed, like I had been sleeping for hours. Truthfully, I was really more confused than I was worrying about anything. I just wanted to _understand_ it. Above it all, I really didn't care how I had gotten here or why at the moment. Well, maybe the 'why' didn't seem too bad? But I wasn't complaining either, though I admit it was the strangest thing I had experienced in my life, even if it _wasn't_ real.

For a few minutes, I didn't move. Instead, I only stared out the window beside my bed in, what I would guess, was a sort of awe. It was only when Lavender sat up suddenly, bolt upright. I was about to say something when she yawned loudly and I finally noticed the purple mask that was still covering her eyes, slightly crooked from hours of tossing around. From behind me, I could hear Hermione mumbling to herself, hustling quickly around her side of the room.

"Slow down, Hermione," the voice came from the other bed, the blood red curtains still pulled tightly around it.

"Really," Lavender yanked off her sleeping mask to hang it on a bedpost. "We still have two hours before breakfast." This caused an irritated grown to come from behind Pavarti's curtains.

Hermione didn't answer, grabbing her pink robe and stalking out of the room with a quick glance at Lavender, who had thrown herself back onto her many pillows with an exaggerated huff.

Untangling myself from the comfortable sheets, I cringed as my bare feet touched the cold floor. But that wasn't what made me pause; I shrugged the apprehensive feeling away mentally, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. I was going to embrace it, whatever it was.

The trunk was still there, and I couldn't help but trace my fingers lightly over the letters printed into the side that spelled my name: It resembled everyone else's, even the loopy gold lettering. Flipping the trunk open, I just grabbed one of the bags that looked the most promising and followed Hermione out of the room.

Unlike the night before, the stairwell was flooded with light that streamed through the high windows that lined the walls. It wasn't very wide, just big enough for two people to be passing one another, but I noticed something I hadn't before. It was a door, just like the one I was standing in front of that led back into the room where Lavender and Pavarti still slept, but this time there was a giant hook, which I guessed resembled some sort of knocker, in the middle of the wood. I paused, my hand raised, unsure of exactly what I was supposed to do, but I grabbed the metal gingerly and brought it down against the wood twice.

There was no answer. I tried again, louder, but still gently. Mostly because a part of me was afraid that it would come to life and reach for me just like it had Hermione's robe. And if it did, I knew I would scream.

This time, though, I heard a confident voice say something that resembled 'come in' but it was muffled greatly by the heavy door and the sound of running water. I pushed on the knocker experimentally, but the door didn't budge. My other hand reached for the area where a doorknob would be but I ended up scratching at the empty air. I tried again, pushing heavily against the knocker, but still, I was only trying in vain. The door didn't even move as I resorted using my entire weight, glancing hesitantly behind me before I threw my shoulder against the wood.

Suddenly, as I was moving back to start another attempt in getting the door to at least budge, it swung open sharply, the hinges barely creaking.

"Yes?" Hermione was standing in the doorway, her robe clenched tightly around her. The sound of running water amplified and I caught the haze of light steam over the many mirrors.

"Mind if I come in?" I asked politely, my voice, sadly, coming out almost in a whisper.

"Alright," she nodded, stepping back and letting me slid through. I was getting better at this, because as soon as I walked in I didn't stop all reasonable thoughts in my mind and just stare. Instead, I looked around like any curious person would do, making my gaze not linger on anywhere in particular.

There were at least three shower stalls and two closed doors that didn't look as intimidating as the one leading to them. Across from the showers were four matching oval mirrors and four similar looking sinks. But by no means was it just ordinary. It had the same charm as did all the rooms within Hogwarts, along with a large window that made my stomach flutter. Already, I could tell which sink Lavender had claimed, as it was covered in unfamiliar products and colorful bottles. Hermione closed the door behind me and stepped behind one of the red curtains that hid the showers from view.

"I don't want to seem like the girl who asks only stupid questions," I started, choosing one of the empty sinks and setting the cloth bag I still had clenched in my hand next to the faucet. "But, how do you open the door?"

To my surprise, Hermione laughed. I couldn't help but smile too, but it was instantly wiped away as I stared at myself in the fogging mirror.

"I'm so sorry, I keep forgetting that you don't know. Don't take that as an insult, oh no," she added quickly when I was silent. "You seem to understand much about things around here, but then you do little things like this."

I wasn't offended the slightest, but I had been distracted. Something was different. Something I couldn't place.

"You need your wand to open the door from the outside," Hermione continued, completely unaware of my distress from behind the curtain. "We all have different passwords or sayings to open each bathroom on each floor, which correspond with your school year." The way she spoke did remind me of someone giving a student a lecture, behind a school desk, formal and precise. It wasn't overly dramatic or anything, but I knew it would take a bit of time to get used to. I mean, it was easier reading the lines than actually hearing them read aloud, right? And what was I thinking about? More time? But I didn't want to think about everything ending, so I just pushed it out of my mind again.

"I heard a rumor that is was because of Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers, before I started school here," Hermione didn't make any other sound to give me any reason to think that she was slightly praising them, except I could swear that she was smiling as she finished the sentence. Or grimacing, knowing Hermione. "That they, to what surprise, played a prank on some younger students that left the bathroom – " She cut herself off, like she was rephrasing her words, "unusable."

"An enchantment was put on to keep students away. You think they would trust the girls with that, but they probably wanted to just make it even," she sighed.

"So, what's the password," I said, tearing my gaze from the mirror.

I knew Hermione was frowning. "Binky," she grumbled.

"Binky?" I repeated, my eyebrows rising in confusion.

"Sadly, Lavender arrived at the dormitory first and, as the password changes every year, she got to pick," there was a pause and I could hear Hermione mumbling something that I could guess wasn't very polite.

I chuckled softly, my mind wandering back to the series. If I was correct then . . . "Isn't that her pet rabbit?"

But I should have kept my mouth shut because there was the sudden scrape of the shower curtain sliding along metal and Hermione poked her head out to peer at me, hair streaming with water.

"How did you know that?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment.

"Lavender mumbles in her sleep," I lied. "Something about a rabbit. She said the name many times, I just didn't know it meant something."

Hermione stared at me for a second too long and I kept my head straight forward, looking down at the bag in my hands and thankfully finding the clasp quickly enough to make it look like I was busy.

"Truthfully," with another scrape of the curtain, Hermione disappeared again. "I think she is just trying to irritate me from when I called Professor Trelawney a fraud for predicting death on the same day she got news her precious bunny died. I still feel sorry for the thing, don't get me wrong, but I didn't know Lavender still thought about it that often."

I swallowed hard and if the shower hadn't been running, I knew Hermione would have heard me. The way she had looked at me, even if I hadn't been staring straight back, made me quite uneasy. Making a noise that I knew would signal the end of our conversation, I started digging aimlessly through the bag. It was full of miscellaneous, ordinary things. _Muggle things_, I realized with a jolt. There was a red toothbrush and over the counter, glossy paste, a hairbrush and even some simple cosmetics. Strange, but it was almost reassuring.

I left my bag on the edge of the sink and started towards the door. Hermione still hadn't said anything more after the rabbit incident, so I knew she wouldn't mind if I just slipped out. Truly, I was thinking about how good a shower was going to feel at the moment. There was a knob on this side of the door, thankfully, and I let it slide shut before stepping across the narrow walkway and into the bedroom.

Lavender was out cold again, her face buried in a sea of linens, hair splayed out over at least five multicolored pillows. The curtains were no longer drawn around Pavarti's bed and I caught a glimpse of her dark skin as she sat brushing her long hair in front of a handheld mirror.

"I'm not waking her up again," she spoke to me through our reflection in the small piece of glass in her hand, brandishing her brush towards Lavender's bed. "Last year, she actually hit me," Pavarti giggled.

I smiled, grabbing something out of my trunk, not caring what it actually was and hauled everything back out into the stairwell. As it closed silently behind me, I didn't hear the bathroom door open again, its hinges, although rusted, were as silent as a ghost.

This time it was Hermione who was startled.

I laughed, letting a true, genuine smile spread across my face as she jumped, her dripping hair splattering water droplets across my front.

"Andy!" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. Then she glanced at the clothes bundled in my arms. "Just give the door a slight tap," she added, shaking her head and whispering something under her breath.

The running water had been exactly what I needed. I sighed as it pounded against my shoulders, letting myself relax. The door hadn't been too hard to figure out. First, I just tapped the metal ring with the tip of my wand, feeling a little foolish. I guessed I just hadn't gotten used to the thing yet, even though anyone would reckon that I would be the first to jump on it if the opportunity struck. The only reason I could think of was somewhere, no matter how small in the back of my mind, now that the wand I held was actually working, I was afraid of it. But after a few times and one awkward stare from a sixth year, I realized that the tap and password had to come in unison.

Under the water, I stopped again, letting the thick stream pour over my shoulders and plaster my hair against my face. It felt so refreshing that I couldn't shake off the feelings that had started to form in the pit of my stomach. Everything felt so realistic; the soft smell of soap, daylight that warmed my skin and lit up the entire room.

Picking up a large bar of something that had a pungent citrus smell, I scrubbed my arms vigorously, like I could wash away any thoughts of doubt or negativity. Distracted, the bar shot through my slippery fingers and fell to the wet tile floor like a stone. I bent over and immediately froze and, despite the warm water beating down on my back, my blood turned to ice.

The bar had landed at my feet, bouncing against the tile. My ankle was blue; an ugly, purplish color that had small tinges of green. That's when I noticed, perfectly outlined against my light skin, the four thick lines that resembled fingers


	7. Lies and Giant Marshmallows

I heard the door open this time, as well as the boisterous voices that suddenly filled the echoing room.

"Did you see that sixth year Ravenclaw who couldn't take his eyes off you at dinner?"

"Who?" Lavender screeched, her voice climbing an octave.

"Jeremy Hayes," Pavarti squealed.

"Oooo, the one with the _amazing_ brown eyes?"

"Of course!"

"Do you think he likes me?" Lavender said and I could picture her brining her hands to her mouth in an exaggerated gasp.

I rolled my eyes, wrapping a towel around myself before sliding the shower curtain back. Pavarti and Lavender both smiled, Lavender still ranting off questions faster than Pavarti could answer them.

"Hey, Andy," Pavarti cut her friend off as she started to ask another question about how attractive that boy was, reaching over to Lavender's sink and picking up a sickly pink bottle in the shape of a star.

"Isn't Andy a bloke's name?" Lavender said and Pavarti jabbed her elbow into her ribs. "What? I wasn't being mean or anything!"

"No, it's fine," I smiled, coming over to stand in front of a mirror so that we were all looking at each other through our reflections.

"Is it Andy with a y?" Pavarti had tipped the pink bottle into her palm and a paste the same horrible color as the container plopped into her hand.

"With a y."

Lavender tilted her head towards Pavarti with a look that screamed _I told you so._

"It's a . . . family nickname," I said.

"So what's your real name?"

The door opened again and Hermione walked through, completely dressed in her school robes and her gleaming Prefect badge pinned to her chest.

"I have to leave early to attend to some matters," Hermione said slowly as everyone turned to look at her at once.

"Early?" Lavender yawned, trying to comb down the mess that was her hair. "This is the crack of dawn for me. If Pavarti hadn't said anything about Jeremy, I bet I'd still be sleeping."

Hermione looked like she was using her entire will to not retaliate.

"Andy," she said, turning to me. "Would you like to sit by me at breakfast? Ron and I have some duties the first few minutes, because we are Prefects, but I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind if he had some company."

I was slightly thrown by her request. Sure, it was polite. Extremely polite. But that thought hadn't been anywhere in my mind and I stood there a moment too long before replying, my voice failing to hide my surprise.

"Yeah, sure."

"Good," Hermione didn't smile, already looking like she had sunk into her concentrating mode, turning and shutting the door behind her.

"Mmmm," Lavender paused, deep in thought. "Lucky girl. I would want to be a Prefect if it meant spending mornings and nights with Ron Weasley."

I couldn't help the laugh that slid past my lips before I could clamp them shut.

"What? He's cute!" Lavender appeared slightly offended.

"No, no," I couldn't stop smiling. "Not that. It's just – " I cut myself off, turning my face away, unable to look her in the eyes as I continued to chuckle.

Lavender huffed again, jerking her head away.

I wasn't laughing at her, which was what I knew Lavender had been thinking. I wasn't laughing at anyone, in fact, but more at just how amazing this was. How amazing _my_ imagination was.

Reaching for the bag that I had found in my trunk, I sifted through the contents with a quick glance that my damp hair. Not finding what I was looking for, I sighed.

"Um, do you have a blow dryer?" I asked hesitantly, to really no one in particular. Lavender stopped and, despite what had happened moments before, turned around to look at me with an incredulous expression on her face.

"What did you say?" Pavarti, too, looked stunned.

"A blow dryer," I repeated. "You know . . . " I made some feeble gesture with my hands as if it would help me make my intentions clearer. It just made me look even more like an outsider.

"What's a blow dryer?"

I whirled around at the question, shooting Pavarti a look of disbelief. But she was staring at me, eyebrows raised. And completely serious, I noticed as I shot a glance towards Lavender, who was also confused. I was silently irritated that Hermione had left. She would have known what a simple, muggle blow dryer was.

"Okay," I said, going for a different tactic. "What do you use to dry your hair?"

"Oh," Lavender sighed, dragging the word out. "Why didn't you just say that instead of making up the blow sigher thingy?"

"Dryer," I said.

"Whatever," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I had to repress the urge to roll my eyes again.

"We do this," Pavarti stepped forward, her wand pointed at my face.

I stepped back immediately, almost out of instinct, but Pavarti didn't seem to notice or she just kept advancing. About to tell her to stop, I brought my hand up to my face just as she flicked her wrist. I guess it could be described as a gust of wind suddenly hitting me in the face, blowing all the hair on my head backwards as if someone had pointed a fan at me. I ran my hand through my once dripping hair, every strand was as dry as if I had spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror, which was how long it would have taken me back home.

"Thanks," was all I managed to get out as I stared at myself in the mirror, hands still running through my hair as if it was something foreign.

Pavarti laughed. Probably at the expression on my face, the look of pure enjoyment and wonder that I couldn't hide.

"You act like you have never seen magic before," Lavender ran her hands through her fair hair, lifting locks into different styles as she gazed at herself in the mirror, her lips pursed as she concentrated on getting her hair to stay behind the pink headband she was sliding over her forehead. "What did they do back where you are from?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mind was too scattered to strand together a single, coherent thought.

This time, unlike the robes I had found myself dressed in on the train, the one I had found in my trunk was a perfect fit. The cuffs fell directly over my wrists, not too long and not too short. The hem rested comfortably at my ankle. The high grey socks I had discovered shoved into the far corner of the trunk covered the bruise I had found there, though what concerned me the most was the livid color. It also throbbed, a pain strong enough to make me wince if I pressed against it too hard or if I banged my foot into something solid. As time began to take effect, the imprint began to become brighter and I didn't have to bend over to see the finger marks.

Everything I pulled on was ten times better than all the costumes I had attempted to make at home. The sweater was hand-stitched and embroidered with the Gryffindor house colors along the bottom and neckline. My tie was silk and cool to the touch, as well was the lining on the inside of my robe. Sure, the bruise on my ankle made me stop and think. Was it just my imagination again? But that still wouldn't explain the fire. Or the people who broke into my house. I couldn't continue asking myself, as I just ended up with even more questions.

I found my way to the Great Hall almost with ease. (Plus, I followed the back of Neville's large head all the way there) I had tried to stay upstairs in the common room until I was sure Hermione and Ron were already at the table so that I wouldn't be utterly alone facing Harry, but after a short five minutes I realized that I was starving.

If it was even possible, the Hall looked even grander than it had the night before. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows that were the size of football fields. Banners hung from the ceilings, sporting the Hogwarts symbol instead of a specific house. The four tables that took up most of the space stretched on forever and were decorated according to house color. It was very busy, people shuffling from table to table, the constant clanging of silverware and the continuous echoing of voices bouncing off the thick walls. Because of the room's gigantic size, I couldn't decipher where the certain sounds came from, as they were all swallowed up by the acoustics.

The Gryffindor table wasn't hard to spot. Then again, maybe it was where most of the noise was coming from as the area seemed dense with people and the joy in the air almost tangible.

When I spotted Harry it was as if everything slowed down. My breath hitched in my throat and all the conversation starters I had practiced the entire way from the common room flew out of my mind. But that didn't stop my feet from moving forward. Before I even knew it, I was suddenly staring down into his expectant, bright gaze.

This time, I didn't freak out when our eyes met. Instead, there was a strange feeling that settled into the pit of my stomach. I couldn't even explain it in words if I had to. There was just . . . something. It wasn't a _something is terribly wrong_ feeling but the word pleasant wouldn't be a good candidate either. And it was something totally different than what I had felt on the train. But the strangest thing was, Harry's gaze faltered for just a moment. Like he was thinking something was strange too.

"Hullo, Andy," Harry said, his green eyes sparkling.

I have to admit, an English accent had always been appealing to me. What American girl wasn't attracted? But I had never been thrown head-over-heels for any voice. Though, as I stood there hugging my robes to my chest and trying not to let my mouth hang open, I was seriously rethinking everything I had lived by. In just two words, Harry had managed to make my entire body feel like putty.

"Hi," I smiled nervously, my voice smaller than I had ever heard it before.

"Do you," Harry's eyes shifted between the empty seat across from him and back to me, "want to sit down?"

"Oh," I said stupidly, tripping over the hem of my robes as I sat down. I gave a nervous smile, feeling my blood rush up to my face, knowing I was probably as red as the silk lining in my robes. There was an awkward pause but, of course, I had to open my mouth.

"Hermione invited me," I blurted, as if I had been caught doing something wrong. As if sitting down, after he had practically told me to, was a sin.

Harry smiled again, running a hand through his ebony hair and making more of a mess than it had been before.

"How are you enjoying the castle?" He was just trying to be polite, I could tell. But I really didn't care at the moment. I could do small talk. Maybe.

"It's amazing here," I said and this time my smile was true, but my face was still burning.

"I know," he picked at the scrambled eggs in front of him. I suddenly became aware of all the food in front of me and slid the nearest plate towards me. My mind blocked out everything else at the sight of food, as if I hadn't seen it for days.

"Hungry?" Harry chuckled as I loaded my plate with sausage, toast, jam and something that looked pretty tasty but I couldn't name it if anyone asked me.

I stopped, spoon hovering over my food. After regarding my heaping plate of food, I glanced up to see him looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

"It's been a long morning." My remark came faster than I had intended. But I wasn't complaining. Harry laughed. Lightly, but it was definitely a laugh.

We continued to talk for a little longer, small phrases here. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione had shown up before it got too awkward.

"Look at today!" Ron groaned. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts . . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day!"

McGonagall had handed out our schedules moments before they had arrived. Harry took one glance at his and threw the paper down with a sigh, but I couldn't help the butterflies that settled in my stomach. I was so excited, yet wizard classes seemed so daunting at the same time. I was never the person who dealt well with nervousness. First, it was the butterflies, and then came the shaking. I was praying to every god out there I would not succumb to the shaking, but cursed under my breath when I noticed the paper in my hands was already jerking back and forth.

Given the amount of time Hermione and Ron had been away doing their Prefect business, they both had just enough time to eat before our first class started. Hermione grabbed a piece of toast while Ron proceeded to cram everything that wasn't mushy into his pockets. I had to bite my tongue to hold back a laugh when Hermione shot him one of those perfect, irritated looks.

I followed the Golden Trio out of the Great Hall, making sure not to get distracted by one of the many decorations that adorned the hallways. And making sure I was walking close to Harry. But not too close, of course. They kept me on my toes, asking questions about my old life that I had no memory of. I answered them the best I could, of course, but I didn't miss Hermione's pondering expression at some of my answers. My story wasn't unbelievable, just a bit . . . farfetched. Even I could say that. My knowledge of the Wizarding World was vast but I was sometimes stumped on certain questions. But at the moment I was a half-blood witch who had resided in France most her life until her mother, a muggle (I had to keep it somewhat simple) had decided to transfer jobs across to America. There, I attended the Salem Witch Institute until my mother had died in a tragic car crash and now I was living with her father in Bath. It was all that I could have come up with on the spot. I didn't like killing off my mother but the story I had told on the train had been so vague; I had many spots to fill in with reasons that weren't so outlandish, even for wizards.

History of Magic had an interesting enough title for me, but I caught Ron and Harry's exchange of pure boredom the moment we stepped over the threshold. Professor Binn's classroom was on the first floor, hidden within a secret nook in the back of the castle. I remembered Rowling's description of him; a ghost who had died in the teacher's lounge, so suddenly because of his age, and had just shown up the next day and continued to teach. But let me tell you, his voice could have put me to death.

I sat next to Hermione, my chin resting on my palm throughout the entire period. Sadly, I just ended up doodling swirls, snitches and stars on a piece of parchment with my quill. It wasn't like he was talking about anything important anyway. I didn't learn anything new about magic and I could have sworn he had forgotten what he had been lecturing about mid-sentence at least three times.

Potions with Snape weren't any better. And I had seriously been going in there with my hopes too high, I realized. He had singled me out as the new kid the first chance he got and nagged at the fact I had been standing next to Harry at the moment and would be unfortunate on having to share his cauldron for today's lesson, as I faltered when he took five points from Gryffindor because of the fact I hadn't found one in my trunk. So much for making a good first impression. And I was going to be so mad at the person who was in charge of the dream. But wouldn't that be me? No, because _I _would have known to bring a cauldron to potions class.

"I take only the best in my N.E.W.T. Potions class, so unless you want to drop out now, I prepare you nothing less than an 'outstanding' though I know some of you will only scrape by with an 'acceptable' in you O.W.L. . . . "

He eyes lingered on Neville as he finished and Malfoy snickered behind me. Unfortunately, we had to share our first lessons with the Slytherins. And so far, I didn't like it.

Malfoy had remembered me. He still hadn't spoken to me but I had continued to feel his slivery gaze bore holes into the back of my head. He didn't frighten me, but I began to feel uneasy towards the end of class, shifting my weight constantly. So frequently that Harry asked if I felt all right.

"You will be making the Draught of Peace. You have an hour."

Snape was just . . . The word awesome would have qualified twenty minutes ago. Now I was starting to see the reason Harry disliked him so much. His eyes . . . They were so black I couldn't even see the pupils. And I know Snape had all his own reasons and all to act like a jerk towards Harry. But me? Really?

I worked with Harry on his, and even with my _diminutive_ wizard training, I was able to catch him on a couple things.

"Thanks," he whispered as Snape passed, unable to say anything horrid about his potion and instead went to pick on Neville again. "This isn't my strongest point, as you can probably see."

I laughed lightly and held my hand out to stop his fingers for the third time. I didn't quite trust myself with the flammable potions and the rat tails or lizard guts yet. Truthfully, I just really didn't want to touch the stuff, no matter how much I wanted to make a potion.

"What?" His eyes were so green I had to stare at the top of his hair to keep from blushing.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Harry?" I asked with a chuckle.

He stared at the board again for a moment, where Snape had written the recipe (though in a scraggly handwriting that was almost impossible to read), and blushed slightly, reaching for a flask that contained the syrup of hellebore. Whatever that was. That was not a question for me.

"Thanks," he muttered and added two drops like the instructions said before moving on to the next line.

Snape, of course, pointed out how Harry must have done nothing in the assignment because it came out perfect and took off half of the credit. Harry had scowled but walked out silently and Malfoy was sure to be at the door to taunt him. But I didn't miss the look he sent me as I stepped out into the hall.

Professor Trelawney was a bit scary at first (I still would admit that freely) but I was excited to leave because I kept laughing at the poor lady so much I wasn't able to focus on my work. She had been dressed in so many robes and scarves that I didn't see any reason for her not to have a heat stroke. She had given us a month's work of homework in a thing she called a 'Dream Journal'. I had almost burst out laughing when she said that with her bug glasses and beaded limbs that moved in a flourish with the word. It was when Harry made a sarcastic comment about Ron's Quidditch dream meaning he was going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow that I couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over in giggles.


	8. Defense Against the Dark Arts

When we entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Umbridge was already sitting at her desk and wearing the pink cardigan from yesterday and the black velvet bow on the top of her head. It was eerily quiet as the whole class settled in, for no one knew, as a new teacher, how strict she would be. Everyone but me. I glared at the woman until she looked at me with her toad face, brandishing her fake smile. The black bow looked like a large fly on the top of her toady head. No matter how happy I was, walking next to the Boy Who Lived and his two best friends, I had been dreading seeing the evil woman again.

"Good afternoon!" she said when the class had sat down. I could barely see her over the large desk that divided the room between teacher and students.

I had taken the empty seat next to Hermione, shrugging my books to the floor. It was impossible to carry everything you needed from one class to the next without some sort of bag. It was also impossible to run back up to the common room and to your next class that was on the other side of the school before it started. The amount of time between classes was vast compared to my high school. But, my high school hadn't been a medieval castle in the middle of nowhere.

Only a few people mumbled 'Good afternoon' in reply. Umbridge's eyes flashed.

"That won't do, will it?" She said in such a sickly sweet voice I wanted to gag. "I should like you to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge', please. One more time," she paused for a moment.

This time most of the class chanted back at her but I kept my mouth shut.

"There now," she said, clearly realizing that she wasn't going to get us to address her the way she expected. "That wasn't so hard. Wands away and quills out, please!"

There was an audible groan from the class as everyone shoved their wands back inside their bags. A class with no wands had ever yet to be interesting, and my Muggle schooling had seemed such a bore the second I had placed the wand on my desk. Not seemed. It _had _beencompletely boring.

Umbridge, though, pulled out her own, very short, wand and tapped the board sharply.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_A Return to Basic Principles_

"Has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

When there was another incoherent mumble throughout the class she made us repeat 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' before continuing.

"Good. Now, I'd like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners' and there will be no need to talk."

Thankfully, my imagination had held up long enough to at least have the decency to conjure me the right books for classes. Sure, it might have left out the cauldron but at least I had my textbook on 'Magical Theory'. Just go on and try to explain that to the toad woman. And I could tell it would be as bad as doing math workbooks in the muggle world with just one look at the front cover.

I caught Ron's glance and he rolled his eyes. There was the sound of books slamming open against the wood desks as some students dragged their gaze to the first page. I hesitated, still watching. He was starting to stare at one spot on the page, twirling his quill in one hand; I instantly knew he was no longer paying attention. And that had only been in a matter of two seconds. I sighed, opening the book to the first, crisp page. But I felt someone staring at me. Or at least had that weird feeling like all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I glanced up, making sure to keep my head somewhat down as Umbridge shot a look over her furry pink quill. Her gaze seemed to rest on me though, piercing me before she turned back to whatever she was doing.

That's when I noticed no one was staring at me. It wasn't the frog lady nor was it Harry, who's green eyes I could see two seats away. It was because of Hermione.

She hadn't touched her book and had her hand in the air while staring fixedly at Umbridge. Umbridge was looking in the other direction, apparently fixated on gazing at her pink curtains. After a couple minutes I realized she was actually ignoring Hermione, her eyes resting anywhere but her. People started to watch Hermione rather than read their books and finally Umbridge turned around and cleared her throat.

"Do you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione as if she had just noticed her and the sweetness of her voice made me throw up a bit in the back of my mouth. I coughed, causing Umbridge's unblinking gaze to waver.

"Not about the chapter," Hermione said, her as readable as a stone.

"We're just reading now," Umbridge smiled falsely, showing her pointed teeth.

"It's about the course." Hermione didn't back down.

"You are – ?"

"Hermione Granger." I noted she didn't even try to be polite.

"Miss Granger, I think the course is perfectly clear when you read it," she said while fidgeting with a black feathered quill at the corner of her desk, her pink one quivering slightly in her other hand.

"I don't," Hermione said bluntly and Umbridge looked a bit taken back. "There's nothing about _using_ defensive spells."

"Well, why, my dear? You surely aren't expecting to be attacked in my class."

"Wait! We aren't going to use magic?" Ron said loudly.

"I have a rule where students raise their hands if they wish to speak in my class Mr. – ?"

"Weasley," Rob said while raising his hand.

Umbridge simply took one look at him and turned around. I might have laughed at how comical her move had been, but just walking into the classroom had sent a feeling through me that I had never felt before. Now I don't really know what I was thinking, but suddenly my hand was in the air and Umbridge's pointed smile faltered as she was forced to put her attention on me by her 'rule'.

"Yes, Miss – ?"

"Goodrich," I finished for her. I was slightly amused by myself, that I even had a voice that was as fluid as if I was talking to my brothers. "Isn't the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts about practicing with defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Goodrich?" Umbridge asked and her sweet voice trembled for a moment. My mind seemed to realize what I was doing, stalling so quickly I barely got out the next words.

"No, but I – "

"Well, then, I'm afraid you aren't able to discuss the 'whole point' of my class. You will be learning spells in a new, risk-free way."

"What use is that?" Harry cried out behind me. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be – "

"_Hand_, Mr. Potter," she said and Harry's hand shot up instantly. "What do you imagine would want to attack children?"

"Umm, let's think . . ." Harry said and I could hear the mocking tone in his voice. I cringed at the next words that came out of his mouth before anyone had even heard them. "Maybe _Lord Voldemort_?"

The whole class gasped. Ron jumped, his chair rising off the ground. Lavender Brown screamed. Neville slipped sideways out of his own chair, tipping the back legs forward. His legs tangled in each other, round face bright red as he struggled to get himself back onto his feet. Umbridge didn't flinch. Instead she stared at Harry with some sort of a grin.

"Now, let me make a few things clear."

The whole class was silent as Umbridge stepped forward, past me to pause before Harry's desk. Her heels clicked past me, short and stubby, just like the rest of her. I felt the same feeling that had happened moments before began to bubble inside my stomach.

"We've been told that a Dark wizard has returned from the dead – "

"He was never dead," Harry interjected angrily. "But you got the returned bit right."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Umbridge snapped suddenly. Then she continued and her composure returned to the usual fake smile.

"This is all a lie. A certain Dark wizard has not yet – "

"_It's not a lie!"_ Harry shouted. "I fought him!"

The entire class recoiled into their seats.

"Detention, Mr. Potter. My office tomorrow at five. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic is informing everyone there is no danger at large. If anyone is alarming you with lies they have fabricated, then please see to consult me outside class hours. But now, we were reading, so I'd like all of you to continue on chapter one. "

Umbridge turned, walking back to her desk, a smug smile plastered upon her face. She sat down again but Harry stood up, his chair scraping against the stone floor. Everyone was staring, no longer interested in their textbooks and I heard Hermione whisper vehemently at him to sit down, but he ignored her with a flick of his hand.

"So you are saying Cedric Diggory dropped dead on his own accord?" His voice was shaking in anger.

There was a moment no one said anything. The entire class froze with fear. Harry's hands were clenched in fists and I noticed they were starting to shake; he didn't even try to hide it. If his wand hadn't been put up I wouldn't have been surprised if he had jinxed her right there, teacher or not.

"His death was merely a tragic accident," she said coldly and I couldn't hold back my sense of shock.

"It was murder."

Hermione gasped because it wasn't Harry who spoke that time. My anger had started to spike the moment Umbridge had ignored Hermione. When she had accused Harry of being a liar, my jaw clenched. But I couldn't sit there and listen to her call Diggory's death a _mere tragic accident_, not with knowing what I knew. My voice was small but strong. I had managed to say it before Harry could continue ranting so, of course, everyone had heard it. Maybe I had been saying it mostly to myself. But that didn't matter anymore. Umbridge turned and glared at me with her toad eyes. It reminded me of the moment I had found myself on the train, staring into Trevor's overly enlarged pupils.

"Miss Goodrich," she said slowly. I was so mad that I didn't even notice she remembered my name. "If I hear another word from you again you will be sharing detention with Potter."

"You won't admit it won't you?" I was starting to rant just like Harry. My voice was rising with each word, my eyes never leaving her ugly face. I could feel everyone staring at me, even Harry, but I couldn't stop myself. She was not going to insult Harry or Cedric in front of me, no matter what she thought was right.

"And you happened to witness this accident, did you Miss Goodrich?" Umbridge asked a question with an answer she _thought_ she already knew.

"But Harry did!" I said, dodging her question. "And I don't know about you but I believe him. I _trust_ him. Voldemort is back. He killed Cedric and you know it."

There was another moment when silence only rang throughout the classroom as Umbridge stared at me with a blank expression. I shifted in my seat as Hermione looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her face. Out of all things, I knew it wasn't horror but it also wasn't amazement or gratitude. It was shock. The old Andy Goodrich would have never back-talked a teacher. But, I guess, when it came to Harry Potter, even in the Muggle world, it seemed to open up a whole knew me.

"Come here, Potter," Umbridge completely ignored me. She didn't even bother with the Mr., her voice more sickly sweet than it had ever been. Harry, who had been staring at me like everyone else in the room, gave a start. Then, as if remembering where he was and who was talking to him, he kicked his chair defiantly aside to where it fell next to Ron with a clatter. Umbridge, settling back down into her plush, pink armchair, pulled out a puce piece of parchment and her feather quill went mad. She tapped it with her wand when she finished and it sealed magically, lifting off the desk to hover in the air above her fat head.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," Umbridge said, the letter dropping to land in the middle of her fat palm. Harry took it from her without saying a word, making sure to crinkle the letter in his grasp. When he was halfway to the door, though, she stopped him and pointed to me.

"Miss Goodrich, you are to join him," Umbridge grinned. Though it looked more like an evil sneer. "And I expect to see you both tomorrow for detention. Lying in my class is not allowed and disobeyed the number one rule. You never raised your hand, sweetheart," she added.

I can say I wasn't really surprised. I _had_ been when she ignored me but a part of me knew it would be coming at the moment where I least expected it. And when Harry was almost out of the room, fuming, she decided to attack, thinking that I would be relaxing. That I would feel like I was off the hook. But I had called her a liar in one way or another. Or at least a big, fat hypocrite. I stormed out of my seat, feeling her satisfied eyes follow me to the back of the classroom where Harry hadn't even bothered to wait. Not that I blamed him. I wanted to get out of there before I did something horrible to that horrific human being who called herself a professor. A professor of what, I might ask? I slammed the door shut behind me, feeling it rattle underneath my hands. It had taken all my guts not to say something back to that evil, ugly, toad faced –

What was wrong with me?

I stopped dead in my tacks, leaning against the door I had just shut in the faces of all the students. In the faces of Ron and Hermione. My hand instinctively went to my hair, pulling nervously through the dark locks. It came to rest over my mouth, where I continued to gape in disbelief over what I had just done.

"Are you alright?"

I started and would admit that I had completely forgotten about Harry Potter. And how stupid does that sound?

He was standing only a few feet from me, right hand still grasping the letter Umbridge had written tightly. His breathing was irregular, face flushed. I knew I wasn't looking any better either. My breath was coming out in short gasps and I had to grab the doorknob for support.

"I think so," I said hesitantly. Harry's expression didn't change and we were both silent as we walked (well, in Harry's case, stalked) down the corridor. I followed him, not exactly sure where McGonagall's office was. I couldn't help finding myself staring at the back of his dark head until he turned a corner sharply. And then I was staring at his face.

I tripped over my own feet this time, stopping barely inches from him. He pretended not to notice, backing up a few steps so that he wasn't leering over me.

"You shouldn't have done that," Harry growled. I knew he wasn't mad at me by the way he had radiated his anger the entire way down the hallway. Though, he could have been angry at me and I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

"And let her get away with calling _you_ a liar?" I tried to smile but his expression was so sincere that my lips were frozen.

"What makes you so sure?"

His question confused me and I paused. "So sure of what?"

"Of Voldemort being back," he stated rather bluntly. "Practically no one in this school but Ron and Hermione believe me, and even they are a bit skeptical. You were lucky you didn't hear what Seamus had to say to me about it last night – " he cut himself off, as I he realized what he was saying.

_Oh, but I was_, I thought to myself. I knew Seamus's whole story. I knew of the fight they had had last night, how Seamus had been barely allowed to attend another year because of him. But how could I tell him I had pretty much seen everything from Harry's first year at Hogwarts to his life many years after graduation. I'd be freakier than Professor Trelawney.

"I just know it," I said. Even though I couldn't get rid of the voice in my head that screamed '_What the hell are you doing?'_, I still placed my hand gently on his arm. Underneath my touch, I felt the muscles relax slightly. "And I believe you, Harry. Isn't that enough?"

Harry glanced down at his arm, over my hand. I was afraid I had gone too far, maybe gotten a bit too close too soon. Harry brought his eyes back to meet mine and I saw that, despite what had just happened, he was smiling.


	9. No Longer Unknown

"You mean to tell me, Potter," A dark girl poked Harry in the chest with a finger, her tall stature a flaming temper. "That you have detention the night of Quidditch tryouts for the new keeper?"

Classes were over and so was dinner. McGonagall hadn't done anything much about us. Had even offered each one of us a biscuit, to Harry's disbelief. She had warned him to keep a low profile with Umbridge, but Harry had been so stiff before we sat down in her office that it took a couple attempts to get it into him. Dinner had been even worse. The moment we entered the Great Hall, later than everyone else as we were held back in McGonagall's office, the room became quieter. It wasn't by any means drastic, but everyone around us suddenly stared. I tried not to listen to the voices as we walked past but instead kept my gaze fixed upon the spot where Ron and Hermione had saved us seats. Though I didn't say that helped at all.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered .. ."

"He reckons he dueled with You-Know-Who . . ."

"Come off it –"

"Who does he think he's kidding?"

"And that new girl, what's her name?"

"Does she really believe all his nonsense?"

"What I don't get," Harry had thrown his knife down after the whispering had continued for more than ten minutes. They had been continuous and I knew, somewhere, someone was talking about me. Suddenly, I knew how irritating it must have been for Harry his entire life the moment he turned eleven, "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them . . . "

"I'm not sure they did, Harry," I said in a low voice, catching the eye of a Ravenclaw student who had been staring at me for the past two minutes and glaring. He became suddenly interested in his potatoes.

Hermione looked like I had taken the words directly out of her mouth. And truly, as I paused to think, I had.

"Oh, let's get out of here," Hermione sighed grimly, staring daggers at a person over Harry's shoulder. She slammed down her own knife; Ron looked sadly at his half-finished apple pie and reluctantly rose from the table. People stared at us all the way out of the Hall.

"What do you mean, you're not sure if they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked me once the doors were far enough away from us.

"And how could you know, Andy?" Ron said, voicing what I had known Hermione had been dying to say by the look on her face.

"I may not have been at this school last year," I said, turning around to face them on the stairs so that I was exactly Ron's towering height, "but everyone heard about Diggory's death. And even wizards across the world are skeptic of you, Harry. No one knows what happened in that maze expect you." _And me_, I added in my head.

"Andy has a point," Hermione said quietly. "You arrive back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body . . . We just had to take Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who is back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth," Harry said loudly.

"I know it is, so will you please stop biting my head off?" Hermione said wearily. "We all know it is."

So that was how dinner went. I guess it could have been worse. But maybe not as bad as what was waiting for Harry back in the common room.

"I didn't decide I wanted a detention that night!" Harry said defensively. "It was that Umbridge woman because I told her the truth about Voldemort, Angelina."

"Everyone was supposed to be at the tryouts together so we could all decide on the keeper," Angelina Johnson said just as fiercely. But I noticed she had relaxed herself a bit with one look at Harry's face, which was distressed.

"You know what?" she said suddenly, her tone changing so quickly that Ron raised his eyebrows at both Hermione and me, where we all stood in the farthest corner. "I don't care what you do but I expect you to be there."

Her calmness was almost just as intimidating as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to ask her," Harry said thoughtfully as Angelina disappeared up the staircase that lead to the girl's dormitories. "I'll offer two more detentions or something like that."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I said, sliding into one of the plush armchairs that conveniently stood surrounding the crackling fire.

"Why?"

"Let's just say I know Umbridge," I said carefully, slowly choosing my words. But I wasn't able to look Harry in the eye. I settled for something close and ended up staring at the rim of his glasses, close to his eyebrows. "She's happy to be punishing you, and you know it. Do you really think she'll let you skip her detention for something like Quidditch. If you just ask her, she'll say no anyway and have the joy of knowing you're actually suffering from it."

"Wow, you really thought that through." I wouldn't have been surprised if Ron had wolf-whistled.

"Andy's right," Hermione said. "She's getting a kick out of it, that's all."

"Well it's getting a real kick out of me, that's for sure," Harry grumbled. "Don't you know how much homework we have? Two essays and the stupid dream diary."

We sat there a moment longer, Ron and Hermione sharing a couch while Harry leaned into his hands as he sank into the armchair next to mine, resting his elbows upon his knees. Hermione attempted to help Ron with one of his essays because, of course, she was already finished with both. And probably the dream journal. Thankfully, I had finished that a week ago even though it is dated up till tomorrow. I would have made it up anyway, so who was I kidding? The only thing I didn't like about all the similarities this had to the fictional Wizarding World was all the homework. All the potions homework, I should say. Sure, throughout the books, Harry and Ron had always complained about the amount of homework Snape dished throughout term. But it was the first day of class and I already had an essay due on his desk in by Wednesday.

Ron excused himself after an hour of confusion, during which Hermione had attempted to teach him the importance of moonstones. He had waited for Harry at the bottom of the staircase but, with a shake of his head, continued up the spiral steps until I heard the soft thud of a door shutting.

Hermione followed suit shortly after, stretching her arms over her head and stifling a yawn. She stopped expectantly, just like Ron had, at the foot of the staircase, inviting me to follow her upstairs. I was about to when I glanced at Harry. He was still sitting in the farthest armchair, staring unmoving at the fire. When I shook my head no, I didn't miss the funny expression that slid across her face. But just for a moment, for she disappeared just like Ron.

It was silent for a moment, both of us gazing into the fire, waiting for the other to say something first. I leaned back in my chair, extremely comfortable in the plush material with the heat from the fire warming my skin.

"I never really thanked you for what you said earlier today."

I opened my eyes, which had been closed as I savored the warmth of the fire against my skin. The flames made the dim light in the room dance, illuminating only his hand, the side of his face and the dark tie around his neck.

"It was nothing." I couldn't help but feel the heat that rushed up into my face. I was thankful that the shadows kept it hidden.

"No," Harry said, "it wasn't. What you did was something I have been waiting to hear from Ron and Hermione."

I could feel his intense gaze from across the room. What he said made my breath catch in my throat and my chest tightened as I registered the hurt in his voice. Though I couldn't see it, I felt his gaze drop as he continued.

"Sure, I know they believe me and all," Harry turned his head to look back into the bright flames. His eyes glinted. "But never have they stood up for me like that. In front of an authority figure at least."

"Who should have no right to be teaching a class banning magic held in a school _of_ magic," I added in a feeble attempt to make the topic lighter. I could have sworn I saw the glimmer of a smile in the firelight but just as quickly as it had appeared, the room was cast into shadow again.

"I hardly know you."

Harry seemed to feel the sudden change as my whole body went rigid, as if the tension in the room was tangible.

"And I don't mean it like that," he tried to recover himself, stumbling over his words. He reached a hand out as if to comfort me. "It's just – today was the first day of term and – Andy, we met on the train only yesterday."

I couldn't hold back the sinking feeling in my stomach. The words had stung, even though I had known immediately that Harry hadn't meant to insult me. He had just been stating a fact; a true fact. I couldn't say we hardly knew each other, because, sadly, that wasn't true. I knew the character of Harry better than I did some of my own friends. I knew why he made the choices he did, what he feared, what were his weaknesses, his hopes, his desires. And who was I to him? Just some lost and confused girl who had shown up on the train asking more questions than she could answer.

"Please don't take that the wrong way," Harry stood, his eyes full of regret and concern. He stepped forward, where the fire lit up his face perfectly.

"It's fine," I said and even I knew I didn't sound very convincing. I had to turn away. Looking into the intense heat of the fire was easier than staring directly at his face.

"I'm just . . . " he paused, searching for the right word until he finally opened his mouth again, "confused."

I held back a snicker. _Join the club, Potter._

" . . . Because I know I don't know you – I can't know you. But I feel like I already do."

I didn't realize what he had been saying until he was already speaking again, this time his voice a bit rushed. I wanted to interrupt him; I willed myself to say something. I wished, above all, to ask him what he had meant. But I didn't. My voice wouldn't respond. Did I even have a voice? At that point, I couldn't even remember.

"It's getting late, I really should be heading off to bed." Harry grabbed his schoolbag that had been hanging off the back of his armchair. "Thanks again, Andy."

And with that, he was gone.

I guess I didn't know what I had been expecting, but I think it would have been safe to say it wouldn't have been what had just happened. Sighing, my gaze lingered on the inviting fireplace a moment longer before I pushed myself out of the comfortable chair and up into the darkness of the tight stairwell. I climbed in silence, not really thinking of anything. Just making sure to put one foot in front of the other until I rounded onto the fifth landing.

Hermione was already in bed, her cat curled up into a ginger ball at her feet. Pavarti and Lavender were still awake, the candles at their bedsides no longer than the length of a thumb. Pavarti folded the paper she had been writing on twice before picking up her wand and giving it a slight flick. It rose in the air quickly and bounded straight for Lavender, who caught it with only one hand. The girl couldn't hold back the fit of giggles that were the cause of whatever Pavarti had written, clasping her own hand over her mouth with one apprehensive look at Hermione's form.

Kicking off my shoes, I changed into my nightclothes in a trance. I didn't even bother to pick up my robes where I had let them fall, only stopping to set my wand upon the nightstand next to me as I pulled back the comforter.

Despite how exhausted I felt, my thoughts continued to keep me up for hours until the moon was gleaming down on me through the window. When I did fall asleep, I was thinking of my family.


	10. I Must Not Tell Lies

We didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day. Not that I was complaining. Maybe I could make myself go back to the third year, so that I could at least have a teacher who cared about the class inform me about subject. Or at least let me learn a few spells to protect myself from it. Not all the crap Umbridge was giving us.

In our free period I helped think of insane things to write in Harry and Ron's dream diaries. It had been a beautiful morning when I had woken up, yet again, in the four-poster bed. I wasn't complaining about that either, but I couldn't push away the feeling that settled in my stomach. It was like someone had punched me hard in the gut. After everything, I was still stuck in this dream. A dream that was becoming ever so realistic the longer I was in it.

But I had been wrong when I had thought the castle was the most beautiful thing I had seen in the world. That was before I had laid eyes on the grounds. It just completed the picture; everything was so green and the millions of trees surrounding the stone towers added to its exotic beauty. The temperature had just dropped, so that it was an absolutely flawless and crisp September morning.

Hermione had dismissed herself after breakfast, saying something about a report that she had to finish for Professor Binn's class.

"Wait? What report?" Ron had looked up from his heaping plate of food, fork raised halfway to his mouth. How he had ever managed to stay so stick thin was above me.

"Weren't you listening in his class yesterday?"

The next look on Ron's face told Hermione everything.

"It's the second day of classes, Ronald," she said, raising one eyebrow. "You better start getting your act together before I rethink letting you use my Potions homework as a reference." She stormed off before he could get in a word.

"That report isn't due for a week," I said, staring at the back of Hermione's head until she disappeared.

"Well, that's Hermione for you," Harry gave a small smile as Ron turned back to his waffles, mumbling something incoherently under his breath.

It was as if last night hadn't happened. There were moments, though, where Harry stared at me a little longer than necessary, or I at him. Though it wasn't _that_ kind of staring. Well, maybe not on his side. But as for me, I still looked at him whenever I knew he wasn't paying any attention.

The large oak Ron had picked out was close to the Quidditch Pitch. He had sprawled out on the ground as soon as we were under the shade of the leaves, pulling out his Potions essay and a textbook he had 'borrowed' from Hermione that contained everything one would want to know about moonstones.

It was hard not to get distracted. People dressed in dark, billowing robes were constantly walking around, back up to the castle or down a path that led to a suspicious little hut on the edge of a thick forest. More than once Harry or Ron had tried to get my attention but I had been busy staring aimlessly at two people playing a game of chess a couple trees over. But not just regular chess, I soon found out, as a glass bishop picked up a darker pawn and threw him over the student's shoulder and into the tree trunk, where he shattered into tiny glass shards.

By the time our free period was over, all of our essays were finished and the couple entries in Ron and Harry's dream journals done. Harry wrote most of his about the coming of his death and explaining that, at my disproving look, because Trelawney always got a kick out of it. When we trekked back upstairs to the Divination hall, I thought about how the quirky professor was going to do flips.

Muggle Studies was next and I can clearly compare it to sitting through Drivers Ed. But maybe that was a good thing as I got to answer most of the questions and, for the first time, Hermione seemed to be lacking some knowledge. When she asked me how I knew all that so well, as I grew up in the Wizarding World from my fabricated story, I only laughed.

As we entered the Great Hall, I couldn't help noticing the stretches of awkwardness between the trio and me were becoming less. Hermione seemed to include me in every conversation, even if they were speaking of something that had happened years before (and that I wasn't _supposed_ to know about). Ron no longer adverted meeting my eyes when he talked and wasn't afraid to say stupid comments when I was listening. Harry didn't mind at all when Ron and Hermione would disappear for a moment and he was left to talk with clumsy old me. Or at least he was really good at acting like it was no problem. And it also could have been the fact that we would be spending the next week sharing detention with the ugliest woman alive.

It was ten minutes before five all too soon. I had warned him Umbridge would probably keep us long. When he had asked why, I just mentioned the fact that we had embarrassed her in front of the entire class. I was thankful he took that as a good enough answer. Personally, I had been dreading the detention. Not because I'd only gotten one in my entire life, because then I'd be sounding like Hermione. But as we walked through the endless hallways, I couldn't help but stare at the flawless skin on the back of my right hand. Harry, who had been talking about the Quidditch tryouts that were this Friday, had missed my tortured expression.

I didn't know if I should have continued on with it. And let Harry face Umbridge alone? Well, that was out of the question. I almost felt like warning him, but what would be the point of that? He would find out in a few minutes. And it was supposed to happen, right? But that didn't make me think about the possibility of walking away from her. Maybe making a run for it. I took a deep breath and lifted my face up to smile just as Harry turned, voicing his concerns for Ron's tryout and his nervousness issues. The hallways had cleared, as everyone was either making their way to the Great Hall or back to their common rooms, and soon I could hear only our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.

He paused at the door that led into the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. His arm was raised, ready to knock, when he hesitated. My eyes caught his and I tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Harry tilted his head to the side at the sight of my face, which I was sure showed how much I didn't want him to let _her_ know we were there. He smiled, a flash of white teeth, and a surge of happiness swept through me. I nodded. He knocked twice.

"Come in," said a sickly sweet voice.

Harry turned the doorknob cautiously, letting the door open slowly.

I had never been in Umbridge's office until then. Not that I would have wanted to, but I couldn't hold back my surprise. And disgust.

The tables and chairs had all been draped in lacy covers. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily. The walls were the pink, every crevasse and every surface. There were pink pillows and cushions. Pink pens and papers. The curtains hanging from the wide window that overlooked the Quidditch field were like flowing bubblegum. The only thing that was saved of the color was her wooden desk and the black feather quill that had no matching inkwell.

And there were the cats.

They all stared at us with their beady red eyes, meowing and licking their paws. There were enchanted technicolor kittens in the pictures, all wearing a different colored bow as a collar. Mugs and cat-oriented plates decorated the walls. I had never really minded cats before but now I wanted everything to get my fingers around their little glass necks. I risked a glance sideways at Harry, who was staring, transfixed, at the giant moving picture upon Umbridge's desk of the giant feline with a Christmas hat perched upon it's tiny head. There were two desks in opposite corners of the room, one facing the large window and the other facing the largest kitten plate I had ever seen. The desks were draped in lace but each had a plain black chair pushed up against them. A long piece of blank parchment lay on the tables.

"Good Evening Mr. Potter, Miss Goodrich," Umbridge said and that was when I noticed her for the first time behind her desk. She was just as short and I could barely notice her for she blended way to well with the walls behind her in her horrible pink robe. If it wasn't for the black bow that was back on the top of her head, I wouldn't have been able to find her.

"Evening," Harry said. And when she turned to look expectantly at me, all I did was nod shortly. Abruptly Umbridge broke out into a grin. I didn't realize what was so funny to her until it was too late.

"When I address you, Miss Goodrich, I expect an answer back," Umbridge clasped her hands in her lap and cocked her head slightly. I couldn't help but watch how the bow bobbed on the top of her head. One of the plated cats above her swatted at her head, eying the bow like it was a mouse.

"I did hope it had sunk in from yesterday's lesson," she added with a bit of sarcasm entering her tone. "So let's do it one more time. I say 'Good evening, Miss Goodrich' and you reply with a nice 'Good evening, Professor Umbridge'. Ready? Good evening, Miss Goodrich"

Through clenched teeth I barely got out the good evening part. I didn't bother ending it with her name. She wasn't going to get that much out of me tonight. I hoped she knew that if she was going to make me repeat it she would not be happy, because the 'Good evening, Professor Umbridge' wouldn't come out as nice a second time.

"There," Umbridge sighed, letting it go. I sighed, even though I knew it wouldn't last.

"Now each of you pick a seat. You will be writing lines for me tonight. No. Not with your quill Mr. Potter," she added when Harry had made a move for his in the bag he carried over his shoulder. With one last glare I crumpled heavily in the seat that had the lovely view of the fat kitten, which meowed loudly in my face. I dropped my own bag underneath the desk with a thud. The cat's green eyes blinked expectantly.

"You are going to be using a rather special quill of mine," Umbridge said, vanishing behind her desk. Harry took this opportunity to cast a quick glance in my direction but, as soon as he did, the cats began to meow. Umbridge twisted around quickly. Or as quick as a woman like her could. The expression on her face was smug and it only got worse when she saw that Harry was still standing.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I'm . . . I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Harry started, his voice slow and hesitant.

_No, Harry. No. Don't do it. _But he couldn't hear me, of course. It was just what that Umbridge woman wanted. And he was falling straight into her trap.

"And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five on Friday and I was – was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it – do it another night . . . instead . . . so I could . . . maybe . . . "

I knew by the look on his face that Harry realized before he even reached the end of his sentence that it was no good.

"Oh, no," said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilt one's convince."

Harry's expression grew darker and I too felt anger boil in the pit of my stomach as had blamed him for _spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories_. Like she didn't know anything of the sort.

"No," she clasped her hands in front of her like she was praying, "you will come here at five tomorrow, and the next, and on Friday too, and you will do your detention with Miss Goodrich as planned." I hated how she brought my name into her little speech. "I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lessons I am trying to teach you."

It was extremely hard not to look at Harry. I didn't want to gloat in his face that I had told her what would happen if he were to ask her, but that had been his choice. But I was also afraid that if I looked at him, it would set either one of us off.

They were still staring at each other, Umbridge with her head still titled stupidly to the side, watching as Harry's anger flared. I tapped my hand on the high back of my chair softly, diverting Harry's attention. Seeming to realize what he was doing, he sat and tore his eyes away from her, dropping his schoolbag beside the desk at the window.

"There," said Umbridge in her sugary voice, "we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we?"

I had thought if he was at least going to suffer from this the most, he might at least get the desk with the view of the pitch. Maybe he could watch the tryouts. But all my sympathy disappeared as Umbridge turned around to retrieve the black quill from her desk. Harry turned in his seat, ignoring the cat's mewing, and his eyes full of guilt. I didn't have to think about what he was trying to say.

Umbridge, with one smug glance at me, walked in Harry's direction, the black quill shaking slightly in her hand in anticipation. Harry took it without a word, staring down at the parchment in front of him.

"I want you to write '_I must not tell lies_,'" Umbridge said.

"How many times," Harry said, right on cue.

"Oh, as long as it takes to _sink_ _in_," she said with an odd tone to her voice that Harry even caught.

"Professor?" I asked in the most polite voice I could muster at the moment. Umbridge turned around and my heart dropped as I saw another black quill quivering in her meaty hands.

"Yes, dear?" Umbridge set the quill on my desk but I didn't make a move to pick it up. Then she smiled again and leaned forward until her face was inches from mine. Even though I was sitting, she didn't have to bend down at all.

I knew she could guess what I was thinking; I knew she could see I was scared. I had thought about trying to persuade her out of the punishment with the lines, but now that I looked at her, I knew there was no changing it. What I had been planning to say had been stupid. There was no way I was going to back out of it now. If Harry had been able to do it, I would be.

"Is there a problem, Miss Goodrich?" she said.

"Not at all," I actually smiled. For a moment, Umbridge seemed confused.

"Good." Umbridge returned to her desk and I stared at the evil thing in front of me. My hands were trembling as I picked it up. Turning slightly, I watched Harry lift his quill over the parchment and hesitate. Setting it back down, he turned back to Umbridge.

"You haven't given us any ink," Harry said stiffly.

"You won't need any," she said. Harry's eyebrows knotted in confusion. Sighing, he looked at me with a bored expression and pressed the tip of the quill into the paper and scrawled the few words. I couldn't start, my own quill resting on the tip of the paper. Instead, I watched Harry out of the corner of my eye, a lump forming in my throat.

Harry gasped and dropped the quill as if it had bit him. Beside me, Umbridge looked up from the papers she had been marking. Harry was staring at the back of his hand in horror, and I didn't miss the pink marks on his skin when he lifted his hand.

Umbridge stood and slowly walked over to him, taking her time. She stood in front of the desk and even though she gazed at him with her ugly eyes, Harry only glared back.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," Harry said after a moment. Umbridge started to turn back to her desk, but her gaze landed on me.

"Dear, I'd start soon or the longer you'll be here," she said in a sugary voice that was smothered in poison.

I stared back at her for a couple seconds before turning my attention to the blank page in front of me. Harry gasped and finished his second line, his left hand clutching his wrist to keep it from shaking. Stealing one more look at Umbridge, I saw her still smiling at me. Trying to calm myself, I pressed the black tip into the paper and cautiously wrote: _I must not tell lies_.

It was the most horrible thing I had ever felt in my entire life. The words had appeared in shinning red ink that sparkled in the setting sunlight that I knew was my own blood. At the same time, the words cut themselves slowly into the back of my hand as if a blade was hovering over my skin. Just as suddenly, the skin smoothed over and the letters were gone. The only thing left was a pink smear from the healing skin. The pain had only lasted for a few moments but I was deeply shaken, staring down at my shinning, scarlet blood on the paper.

Umbridge was still watching when I heard her walk up behind me and glance over my shoulder. My eyes flashed towards the oversized kitten in front of me. It cocked its head to the side, its eyes mocking me.

"That's perfect, Miss Goodrich. I suggest you keep it up," she said.

I closed my eyes as I brought down the quill again and my hand split open, sliced by the invisible scalpel. When I looked back, the skin had not yet healed. I saw the words cut again in the same spot, in my own handwriting: _I must not tell lies_.


	11. The Hog's Head

Umbridge didn't let us go until the castle had fallen quiet. I had left her room with my head held high, blood trickling down my wrist. Harry shut the door behind us, but not before Umbridge managed to get in another line about our detention tomorrow. Because this one had barely made an _impression_ on us. It took all I had right then to not spit in her face and insult her sick humor.

Harry, as soon as we were far enough away from her office, had instantly bombarded me with questions. Was I alright? Had the bleeding stopped? Was there anything he could do? But it wasn't like he wasn't any better. It was only when Harry grabbed my hand that I stopped cold in the dark hallway, extremely aware of how warm his skin felt against mine. He was only looking at the wound etched into the back of my palm, of course, but our eyes had met for a moment. Only a moment. Then he let go sharply, cursing the toad woman the entire way back to the common room.

I realized it was well past midnight when I finally pulled the curtains closed around my bed. It had taken me at least thirty minutes to tend to the torn flesh on the back of my hand, gingerly running it under water and, when that stung too much, resorting to patting it with a towel. The words continued to stare up at me, glinting in the moonlight.

_I must not tell lies._

Sometimes I was bad at lying. And that sometimes was rare. Too rare, I would've said. But most of the time the lies just rolled off my tongue whenever I needed them. My mind would work them up so fast that I would hardly processes it before the lie had passed my lips. Like the day I had gone into detail of my family and childhood. The family and childhood that never existed or never will. It was my weakness. But it was whenever I decided to tell the truth people accused me of lying. In a lie I could make perfect eye contact and never blink. But when the truth came out it was sometimes hard to keep a straight face. How flipped was my world? And as I looked at everything around me, I knew the answer to that question. But what was I really supposed to tell them? Sorry to tell you this, guys, but you're not real. Just a figment of my awesome imagination.

Yeah, right.

Detention the next night was just as bad as the first. I had opened my eyes that morning, once more expecting to see the blue walls of my bedroom or even a the drab whiteness of a hospital for goodness sake. But the only thing that was directly in my line of vision was the now silvery loops that spelled out that evil phrase on the back of my hand. The skin became irritated more quickly; red and inflamed. I knew that it was only a matter of time before it wouldn't heal at all and the words would remain slashed in my hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. But I let no moan of pain escape me and neither did Harry. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was hurting me. By the third detention, which had passed in the same way as the previous two, the words "_I must not tell lies" _did not fade from the back of my hand. Instead, the scratches remained there, oozing droplets of blood.

As we made our way back to Gryffindor tower in the torch lit hallways, Harry began contemplating if there was another teacher in the world he hated more than Snape. Despite everything Snape had already done, I would take a detention from him any day and deal with his forward 'hatred' rather than have a magical quill scar me.

I had begun to become more irritated every morning when I woke up snuggled in the same four-poster that sat between the sleeping figures of Hermione and Lavender. Maybe irritated isn't the best word. Worried, confused, upset and delighted would have all worked too; worried about my family, confused about . . . well, everything. I was also upset and ecstatic over the fact I wasn't waking back up in my boring, non-magical reality. But I couldn't just stop and complain. Everything had to continue on as if it was all perfect. It _was_ all perfect. I had wanted this for years but now, when it had been handed to me, everything seemed to be wrong.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Ron said slowly.

It had been almost a month that we were able to keep Umbridge's punishment a secret. Not that I really wanted to in the first place. Though it would have done no good to complain. It had been Ron who found out. Harry had gone and gotten another detention after Malfoy had mouthed about Hagrid. And he had retaliated in front of Umbridge herself, to my horror. The second go with the quill had left the words deeper in his hand when my wound had just been scarring over. All I was left with was a sliver scar of tissue that still made the letters shine. It was far away from ever healing, but I was positive I did not want to have another go at the thing just to find out.

"No," Harry said stubbornly.

"McGonagall will go crazy if she knew – " Hermione started but Harry interrupted her.

"Yeah, she would, but would it really make it better? Umbridge will just pass another Decree about whoever complains about the Ministry's decisions will get sacked immediately."

Yes, the Educational Decrees. The minute they had begun popping up all around the school I had gotten the awful sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Everyone just assured themselves it would blow over. That she couldn't be _that_ serious.

"She's an awful woman," I said and pushed a bowl forward full of a yellow sap from who-knows-where that Hermione had prepared the moment she had figured out how Umbridge exactly made Harry do his lines. "Soak your hand in this, it will help."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled and it was silent for a moment as everyone thought of what to say. Finally Hermione spoke up:

"We've got to do something about her."

"I suggest poison," Ron said with no hint of a joke in his voice.

"No, not that. I mean, we should do something about how we aren't going to learn any defense in that class from her at all."

"We can't do anything," Ron said grimly. "It's her and the Ministry against a bunch of school kids."

"Wait," I said. "Hermione means that we should – because Umbridge is never going to – do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves," Harry said suspiciously as Hermione shot him a nervous glance.

"Well – learn Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"You want us to do extra work?" Ron groaned.

"It's like what Harry said to Umbridge on our first lesson, preparing ourselves for what's out there. If we don't learn anything for a whole year – "

"We can't do much by ourselves," Ron said with a sad tone. "I mean, the most we can do is look up jinxes at the library and try to practice them, but that wouldn't get us far at all."

"No, I agree," I said, running my fingers absentmindedly over my right hand. My heart rate had started to escalate as the scene was playing out before me, exactly like how the book had described it. "What we need is a teacher; a proper teacher who can show us how to use the spells."

"If you're talking about Lupin . . ." Harry started.

"No," Hermione said. "He's too busy anyway and we'd only see him on Hogsmeade weekends, and that's not good enough."

"Who then?" Harry asked.

It was almost comical, the way Harry stared at us with no clue in the world. I sighed, a slight smile playing across my lips.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry. You."

It was quiet for a moment as Harry let the idea settle.

"That's not a bad idea . . ." Ron mused aloud, breaking the silence.

"What isn't?" Harry asked.

"You teaching us, of course," Ron said. "You are the best in the year and have defeated You-Know-Who and such . . . I know this won't be a shock, but I think Andy's right."

"I'm not a teacher, I can't do – "

"You have the experience that we all need in a teacher, Harry," I said hurriedly, unable to contain my excitement. "You can produce a Patronus, something even grown wizards can't and you threw off that Imperious Curse completely in Moody's class."

Harry was about to ask another question when he stopped, turning to me.

"Where did you hear about that?" Harry said, his gaze a bit too stern. "That happened last year."

"Oh – I . . . people like to talk about you. What's new?" I covered quickly.

"But we still have a problem," Harry said. Thankfully my answer seeming to please him enough. But maybe barely, as he still looked at me a bit longer than necessarily. "Umbridge is everywhere. How can we do it and not get caught? I mean, I guess if it's only just you three . . ." He stopped at the sudden change of expression on Hermione's face.

"It's not just you three, am I right?" He said slowly.

"We thought we'd open it up to anyone who wanted to learn," I said gently, apprehensive of Harry's reaction.

"This weekend is Hogsmeade," Hermione offered. "We can tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and talk it over?"

"Why outside of school?" Ron said.

"Why? Because I reckon that Umbridge wouldn't like what we were up to."

"If it means defying the Umbridge woman, I'm in. But really? Who's going to show up?" Harry said skeptically.

"Oh, probably just a couple people," I said and shot Hermione a look of victory. She smiled, settling back into her armchair as a pair of knitting needles danced at the cause of invisible hands in the air beside her.

...

"You said a _couple_ people," Harry whispered harshly as a crowd flooded into the Hog's Head. "Andy, this is more than a _couple_ of people."

"Well, the idea was quite popular when it got around," I said with a smile that made Harry scowl. I reached out to touch his shoulder, feeling his muscles tense underneath his thin jacket.

"Really, it'll be fine," I said quietly as Hermione got everyone to settle down into the dusty chairs at the empty pub. Harry leaned backwards as if to get away from the rushing crowd, causing me to suddenly realize how close we were. The soft skin of his neck that was visible over the tip of his collar was right in front of me, his shoulder bumping into mine slightly as he shifted his weight. I cleared my throat roughly, turning my head to the side as butterflies threatened to settle in my stomach. Harry sent me one last pleading look with his eyes as Hermione coughed.

The bar across from the Three Broomsticks was nothing in likeness. The Hog's Head was small and covered in cobwebs and a strong smell of what could have been goats. The windows looked like they'd hadn't been washed in years and the sunlight that came through was grimy and dull. The chairs and tables were covered in dirt that appeared to be from the earthen floor, but when I looked closer, I could see the stone beneath the centuries of accumulated filth.

"Not the best place to have a meeting," Harry whispered as he watched my eyes travel over the stained bar and tottering stools.

We'd only been waiting for a few minutes when the doors had creaked open and people started flooding in. There was Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown and Neville. The Patil twins followed them with a laughing Cho and one of her giggling friends. I couldn't miss the fact that Harry's eyes darted towards her the moment she walked through the door. Luna looked like she could have walked in on accident by her dreamy expression and the Chasers from the Gryffindor team were all there; Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. I hardly recognized Colin Creevey and his brother without the annoying camera, though he still had the messy blond locks. A few Hufflepuff students walked in with Ginny, Fred and George. Lee Jordon brought up the rear with a huge paper bag crammed with things I bet I didn't want to know. Partly because it all had seemed to come from Zonko's.

"Well – err- hi – " Hermione stopped short as everyone grew quiet. Never before had I seen her so lost for words.

"You know why you're all here. Um, well . . . Harry – I mean – _we_," Hermione turned her head once to point in my direction. Harry scowled again, "had the idea that it would be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts – like _really_ study it, not the rubbish that Umbridge is giving us, I thought it'd be good if we took matters into our own hands."

The large group of people was still so silent it was eerie. Hermione cleared her throat again when no one spoke. "I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, and not just reading about it."

"Hear, hear," Someone said from the back. Hermione stood up a bit straighter.

"I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ." Hermione paused and sighed before finishing.

"Because Lord Voldemort's back."

Everyone's reactions were so quick it was like someone had set off a firework in an enclosed space. Several people jumped. Neville let out a small yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. Everyone's eyes immediately transferred to Harry. I gave his wrist a small squeeze as some rude kid shouted from the back:

"Where's the proof he's back?"

"Dumbledore believes it – " Hermione started.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_," the boy said, pointing to Harry. I noted he was one of the Hufflepuff students who had walked in last.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but Harry stepped forward. Everyone fell so silent it was as if there weren't dozens of people crammed into the pub.

"It's ok, Hermione," Harry said. He turned to look straight at the Hufflepuff boy in the face. "You know what makes me say Voldemort's back? Because I saw him. Dumbledore told you all last year, and if you don't believe him, or me, I'm not wasting my afternoon trying to convince you, any of you."

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back. He didn't give us any details or anything. He didn't tell us how – "

Harry cut the Hufflepuff boy off. "If you've come here to listen to me explain what it's like to witness Voldemort kill someone, then leave. I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, alright?"

There was another silence until Hermione cleared her throat for the third time, but no one made a move for the door.

"So . . . as I was saying, if you'd want to learn some defense, we need to find out where we're going to do it – "

"I got the perfect idea, Hermione," I said suddenly. I had been thinking about this for the past few minutes. Cutting a few weeks off the book's time wouldn't be that bad, right? And they'd be getting to the same place anyway. "The Room of Requirement."

There were a lot of blank stares as I finished. Then I remembered Harry didn't find out about the room until weeks later. Suddenly, my plan didn't seem so good.

"What's the Room of Requirement?" Ron asked.

How was I going to explain this?

"It's a . . . room," I said stupidly, caught off guard as everyone turned to stare at me. I felt a wave of sympathy for Hermione. It was awful, at least fifty pairs of eyes staring directly at you, waiting for something to be said. Always unblinking.

"I think we got that," the Hufflepuff boy said cockily. Though his expression was gone the instant Harry turned to glare at him,

"Yes," I said, regaining my composure. "It's a room that only if you really need it, it will appear to a person's need. Um, like if I really need to hide something, the Room of Requirement would appeal to your need and give you a place to hide whatever it is you wanted."

"So," Ron crossed his arms over his chest, "say if I really needed to find a bathroom and the Room of Requirement just happened to be around. . . ?"

"Yes, Ron," I had to fight back a smile. "It would work that way too."

There were whispers throughout the crowd.

"Wait!" Harry cried out abruptly. "I think I know what you're talking about. In my first year I hid something in a room like that."

I couldn't hold back my sigh of relief. At least now I wasn't trying to describe something I hadn't even seen with my own eyes.

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

"On the seventh floor across from the Barnabas the Barmy tapestry," Harry replied.

"That's just an empty wall," Dean piped in.

"Not unless you know how to use it," I said.

"Well, since we have a place to use now I suggest – "

"Is it true Harry," Another Hufflepuff girl said suddenly. "That you can produce a Patronus?"

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hair as she was cut off. I had to hold back a snicker as her firsts balled together at her sides, knowing how much little Susan Bones was irritating her. There was another murmur of whispers.

"Yeah," Harry said. He didn't hide the fact that he was slightly cautious. Or maybe it was just too easy to read his emotions.

There was another gasp of awe through the group.

"A stag Patronus?" the girl, Susan, asked again. Harry nodded.

"Is it really true?" Lee Jordon said, putting his Zonko's bag at his feet as he leaned forward. "You can cast a stag Patronus, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said almost defensively as Lee turned to slap Fred on the back in disbelief.

"Blimey, Harry, I never knew you could do that!"

"Mum told us not to spread it around," Fred said while flashing a huge grin. Even the crude Hufflepuff boy who I suddenly remembered as Zacharias Smith looked the smallest bit impressed. "Said Harry had enough attention as it was."

"She was right," Harry mumbled and smiled, his awkwardness clearly showing. A couple people laughed.

"And you did kill a Basilisk with the sword that's in Dumbledore's office?" Luna said dreamily and Justin Finch-Fletchley wolf-whistled as Harry nodded. "A portrait told me last year . . ."

"And in our first year," Neville said. The whole group turned like someone had pulled them all on strings, "he saved the Sorcerer's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"And not to mention," Cho Chang said, her girly voice ringing through my ears. Harry turned to look at her directly and the girl smiled; at the same time I felt a small tug at my gut. "All the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament: merpeople, dragons and acromantulas."

Harry's gaze lingered on the pretty oriental girl. Cho Chang was beautiful with dark long hair and clear skin. Her ponytail was sleek and shiny, even in the dim light of the pub.

"Look, I . . .I don't want it to sound like I'm being modest or anything, but . . . I had a lot of help with everything – "

"Not with the dragons," the boy next to Ginny said almost at once.

"Or the dementors this year," Susan added.

"No," Harry admitted to the statements as if he was guilty of a felony. "I know I did bits of it without help, but what I'm trying to say is that –"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us anything?" Zacharias Smith said loudly. It was almost dead silent in the pub as everyone turned to look at him.

"Here's an idea," Ron snarled. "Why don't you shut your mouth?"

Zacharias flushed at Ron's sudden intensity. "Well, we've all come here to learn from here, and now he's saying he didn't do any of it."

"That's not what he said," Fred, who had pulled up a chair behind him, barked and Zacharias jumped.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" George pulled some long and lethal-looking instrument from deep inside the Zonko's bag Lee had set by his feet. Zacharias cringed.

"Or any part of your body," Fred joined in with his brother. "Really, we're not fussy where we stick this."

"Yes, well," Hermione stepped forward hastily. "Moving on . . . the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of agreement through the group. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, but only because he was too busy keeping an eye on the thing still in George's hands.

"Well, I say, once a week is a good time to meet," Hermione said. "And Andy and I will check the Room of Requirement and notify everyone." She finished the last bit quickly as someone in the front opened their mouth to speak.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with Quidditch practice," Angelina said and Cho nodded in agreement.

"We can find a night that suits everyone, I'm sure," I said.

"I think everybody should write their names down," Hermione continued and reached for a piece of blank parchment out of her bag. "We'll send a message to everyone on the list when we get a time and place."

I noticed at once that several people looked slightly alarmed at the thought of putting their names down.

"Err . . ." Zacharias said slowly, not bothering to even look at the parchment George was now trying to pass him. "Well, I'm sure Ernie will just tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie was looking hesitantly at the list now too, with only the Weasley twin's names on it. Hermione's eyebrows disappeared again as he looked at her desperately.

"I – well, we – are _Prefects_," Ernie said the word like it would explain everything. "If that list is found . . .Umbridge might . . . if she finds out . . ."

"You think Hermione would just leave the list lying around?" I said testily.

"No, no," Ernie tried to cover himself up quickly. "I – yes, of course, I'll sign."

No one said anything after that about the list, but even Cho and Neville looked a bit reproachful as they scrawled down their name. I couldn't warn them that it would come back to bite them. Well, maybe I could have but I didn't know what that might do. I have to admit, it was kind of fun knowing what was going to happen, who was going to say what. I guessed, thinking realistically, if I told them, the plot could veer and I'd have no control over anything. But I was even hesitant before I added my name after Harry's, knowing I'd be blamed too. But the look on Zacharias's face as I shoved the parchment in his hands was priceless. He had hoped we had forgotten about him; that had been more than clear by his reaction.

...

"That Zacharias bloke's a git," Ron said as the tall blond walked out the door.

"I didn't like him much either," I agreed, glowering in Zacharias's direction until he disappeared. "But he overheard Hermione talking to Ernie and Hannah about it, so what could she say?"

"The more people the better really," Hermione said as the last student left in the pub grabbed his coat. "If Michael Corner hadn't been going out with Ginny, he and his friends wouldn't have come."

Ron suddenly gagged and sprayed the rest of the butterbeer he had been draining from the bottle in his hands down his front.

"WHAT?" Ron said, outraged. I almost laughed as his ears really did turn a shade the color of raw meat. "She's going out – my sister – what do you mean? – Michael Corner? – _What_?"

"They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ron wheeled around to Harry, gasping. "Who was Michael Corner?" He said quietly so Hermione wouldn't hear him.

"The dark one," when Hermione still answered Ron stomped his foot.

"I don't like him," Ron said immediately.

"Big surprise," Hermione muttered under her breath.

I laughed out loud, which only caused Ron to turn an even darker shade of red. Soon he would be clashing horribly with his hair. I followed Hermione outside the pub, holding the door open long enough to let out a steaming Ron, who was still breathing down her neck. I dropped back to walk beside Harry, who was looking around as if he was searching for something.

Hermione stopped at the outside of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop (as identified by the wooden sign shaped like a giant quill) and Ron smacked into her, unaware that she had paused.

"Ron," she said severely, but she kept her eyes on the display of extravagant feather quills. "This is exactly why Ginny didn't tell you in the first place. She knew you'd take it badly."

"What do you mean, who's taking it badly?" Ron said defensively. I turned away so he wouldn't see me snicker, towards Harry. But he wasn't looking at either Ron or Hermione. I followed his gaze across High Street and found the sleek black hair he seemed so intent on watching. The same gut-wrenching feeling shot through me again and I yanked myself back to where Hermione was musing aloud about purchasing a handsome gold and black quill that was perched at the top of the display.

"I thought Ginny fancied Harry!" Ron was still following Hermione even when she turned away from the window.

"Ginny _used_ to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago," Hermione said. "Not that she doesn't _like_ you, of course," she added kindly for Harry's sake. But he barely heard a word. I didn't look at him as we continued our way down the street.

"And talking about Michael and Ginny . . .what about Cho and you?" Hermione prodded, bringing up the exact topic I didn't want to think about.

"What do you mean?" Harry jerked out of his trance state at the sound of her name.

"Well," said Hermione, her lips curling slightly, "she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"

The smile that had stretched across Harry's face made my knees feel weak, despite the fact that the smile wasn't meant for me. I followed the three all the way back up to the castle in silence.


	12. Dumbledore's Army

It had barely been two days since our trip to Hogsmeade before a large sign with glistening black letters was posted on the Gryffindor notice board. It was so large it covered everything else on there – the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasley's new advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices. There was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat, curly signature.

_BY ORDER OF_

_The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts_

_All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An Organization, Society, team, Group, or Club is herby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, and Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed:_

_Dolores Jane Umbridge_

_High Inquisitor_

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?"

Harry, Ron, and I had been reading the notice over the heads of some very concerned second years. A boy next to the one who had spoken gasped.

"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," Ron said, making the second year jump. "I don't think we're going to be lucky enough, though, do you?" he asked us as the boy and the rest of his friends hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice again, the expression on his face darkening with every sentence.

"This isn't a coincidence," I said. "She knows."

"She can't," Ron said.

"Andy's right," said Harry, his hands forming fists. "There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust . . . Any of them could have run off and told Umbridge. . . "

"Zacharias Smith," Ron bellowed, punching a fist into his head. "Or – I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look too – "

I couldn't help rolling my eyes and Ron glared. "You're just mad because he's dating your sister."

Ron's face grew red but he stayed silent.

"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry said, his eyes wandering towards the spiral staircase that lead up to the girl's dormitory.

"Let's go and tell her," said Ron, stepping forward.

I watched him walk over to the staircase, Harry starting after him after stealing one last, angry glance at the board. As Ron began climbing the steps, I lunged, grabbing Harry's robe and yanking him backwards. I tried to reach Ron too, but my fingers only brushed along his back.

"Ron, wait! Don't – " But it was too late.

It was on the sixth step that it happened. There was a loud, wailing sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide. There was a brief moment where Ron tried to keep running, arms moving madly like windmills and then he toppled over backward, shooting down the newly created slide until he came to a rest on his back at Harry's feet.

"Thanks, Andy," Harry smiled. That's when I realized I still hadn't let go of his robe. I let my hand fall limply to my side. "I don't think we're allowed in the girl's dormitories, Ron." He pulled Ron to his feet, trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

"Me," Ron turned the color of a rose. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added as the girls, still giggling madly, headed off for the portrait hole. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we aren't allowed – "

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," Hermione came sliding neatly onto a rug and got quickly to her feet, "but it says in _Hogwarts, A History_ that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"

"To see you – look at this!" Ron exclaimed, dragging her over by her arm to the notice board.

Hermione's eyes slid so fast over the notice she could have been glancing at it. But then her expression became stony.

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" said Ron angrily.

"They can't have done," Hermione said in a low voice.

"You are so naïve," said Ron, "you think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy – "

"Hermione put a jinx on the paper we all signed," I said grimly. "Watched her last night. Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'd know exactly who they were and they'd regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" Ron said eagerly.

"Well, put it this way," said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think . . . I wonder if this has been put up in all the Houses?"

It was clear that once we had taken one step into the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was certain intensity behind the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. We had hardly taken our seats before Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon us.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced over his shoulder and for a moment our eyes met.

"We're going to do it anyway, of course," he spoke so quietly that I barely heard him.

"Knew you'd say that," said Ginny, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

"And the prefects as well?" Fred asked with a quizzing look at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course," Hermione said coolly.

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over Hermione's shoulder. "_And_ those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith . . . and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione shot me an alarmed look.

"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious – sit down!" she mouthed to the two Hufflepuff students, gesturing frantically to their own table. "Later! We'll – talk – to – you – _later_!"

"I'll tell Michael," Ginny said impatiently, swinging herself off her bench. "The fool, honestly . . ." Ron glared at her as she stood, twisting in his seat as she made her way towards Micheal.

Breakfast continued in the same way for the next twenty minutes. Everyone was talking about Umbridge, who ironically hadn't bothered to show up that morning. It wasn't until we were all on our way to History of Magic when a voice called out from behind us.

"Harry! _Ron_!"

It was Angelina. I was happy to see her again, but I had a sinking feeling as she hurried desperately towards us, her eyes wide.

"It's okay," Harry said quietly when she was close enough to hear him, jumping to the conclusion she was raving about the D.A. "We're still going to – "

"You realize she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina cut him off. "We have to go and ask permission to re-from the Gryffindor team!"

"_What_?"

"No way," Ron was appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry . . . I am going to say this for the last time . . . Please, _please_ don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play anymore!"

"Okay, okay," Harry said. Angelina looked on the verge of tears. "I'll behave myself, don't worry."

"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," Ron said grimly as Angelina turned in the opposite direction and we continued onto Binn's classroom. "She hasn't expected Binns yet. . . Bet you anything she's in there . . ."

But he was wrong. The only teacher present in when we entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. It was an interesting subject, don't get me wrong, but everything that came out of his transparent mouth flew over my head.

I had begun my traditional doodling on a spare piece of parchment paper, which I realized, about after a few days, that was a bit thicker and had a yellow tint compared to the paper I knew. Hermione had started to send me quick glares but it wasn't until Harry cried out angrily I realized she hadn't been regarding my bad, inky stained interpretation of the Whomping Willow.

"_What_?"

I followed Hermione's gaze to the window. A white, snowy owl was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing at Harry through the thick glass, a letter tied to her leg.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," I heard Lavender sigh to Pavarti a few seats behind me.

Hedwig was stunning, more so than all the owls that had swooped in over our heads at breakfast ever morning. I remember the first breakfast I had had and all the owls had seemed to dive-bomb the Great Hall in one big wave. It had been a wondrous sight until hundreds of dark shadows seemed to dart dangerously close to my head, swooping and cawing. That had been plenty embarrassing.

Harry glanced at Binns, who was droning on in his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused on him. Harry slipped silently off his chair, crouched down, and hurried along the row to the window. I pushed my chair back silently to let him slide by, unintentionally holding my breath as he passed. I tried not to let my face turn red when his hand slid down my leg as he steadied himself, forced to stop suddenly when Binns looked up for the first time in a half hour. My breath hitched in my throat as his fingers tightened around my knee, and I caught the apologetic flash of green eyes as Binns's head was pulled back to his notes.

By the way Harry had paused at the window, it was clear that he thought Hedwig was just going to hold out her leg so he could detach the crumpled piece of paper but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. Harry threw an anxious glance at Binns, who was still going on about the type of weaponry that the giants used in their battles. Then, setting Hedwig on his shoulder, he sped back to his seat. When he passed by again, I couldn't help holding my fingers out far enough to just brush the owl's fluffy, pure white feathers.

I attempted to figure out the point of Binn's lecture, but was again distracted as I caught the distraught look on Harry's face as he gazed down at Hedwig, who was perched comfortably in his lap. Or maybe comfortably wasn't the correct word.

"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, bending his head low over the owl. I leaned in closer, Hermione peering over my shoulder. That's when I noticed that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at a funny angle. "Look – there's something wrong with her wing – "

Hedwig was quivering. When Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself.

"Professor Binns," Harry said loudly. No one in the class had to look towards him; they were already anyway. "I'm not feeling well."

Professor Binns glanced up from his notes for the second time, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.

"Not feeling well?" He repeated hazily.

"Not at all well," Harry said firmly, getting to his feet while making sure Hedwig was concealed behind his back. "So I think I need to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes," said Binns, clearly confused. "Yes . . . yes, the hospital wing . . . well, off you go then, Perkins . . ."

Harry didn't return until class was over. I followed Ron and Hermione into the grand courtyard, pulling up my cloak collar against the wind. As Harry approached us, he slit open the scroll that had been attached to Hedwig's leg.

"Is Hedwig okay?" Hermione said the moment he was in earshot.

"Where did you take her," Ron asked.

"To Grubbly-Plank," Harry replied sternly, his eyes still on the paper in his hands.

"Was that scroll opened?" I asked, pointing to the parchment.

Harry's head snapped up. "No."

"You don't think," I continued, my lips forming the words faster than I could comprehend them myself. "That maybe Hedwig was attacked? I'm just saying that with all Umbridge is doing; intercepting an owl wouldn't be too difficult. And Hedwig is unfortunately an owl who would be unmistaken. And it wouldn't be too hard to reseal a simple scroll by magic."

"That's what McGonagall said," Harry shoved the scroll into his pocket. "Sometimes, Andy, I swear you know exactly what's going on around here."

I swallowed hard, thankful for the air wiping around us that disguised the sound. "A girl can guess."

"Who's the letter from anyway," Ron said, jerking his head towards Harry's pocket.

I didn't miss the brilliant eyes that darted in my direction, their gaze suddenly piercing. I pretended to have a sudden interest in the stonework of the tall pillar we were huddled against, turning my head.

"Later," Harry's voice was carried over by the choppy wind. He turned on his heel, heading back towards the doors. We started off towards Potions class in silence. It wasn't like they couldn't talk about who it was. I knew exactly that Sirius wanted to meet him at the Gryffindor common room fireplace at midnight. But, of course, I had to keep my mouth shut. I had already messed up, anyway.

We were just about to reach the bottom of the cold, stone steps that lead to Snape's classroom when Draco Malfoy's unmistakable voice echoed in the large space. He was leaning against the door, waving an official-looking parchment and talking much louder than necessary.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry. . . . It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor is allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered. "It's what he wants. . . "

"I mean, come on," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering. He knew we were there. "If it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much of a chance. . . . From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter, my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. . . . Apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter and Pansy shrieked with glee. Something collided hard with my shoulder, knocking me sideways. Hermione grabbed my arm as Neville hurdled past me, headed straight for Malfoy.

"Neville, _no_!"

Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get a Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.

"Help me!" Harry flung his arm around Neville's neck and was dragging him backwards as Ron seized his arms. Neville began to sputter odd words, his face scarlet.

"Not . . . funny . . . don't . . . Mungo's . . . show . . . him . . ."

Snape was suddenly there. I jumped, fully aware of how close the Professor was standing next to me, so suddenly it was like he had Apparated. I felt his dark gaze slide over me for a moment before sweeping over where Harry and Ron were still wrestling with Neville.

"Fighting each other Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape's voice was cold. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside all of you." Snape disappeared just a quickly.

Malfoy sneered, eyeing Harry a moment longer before stepping forward to follow Snape. I paused, watching him from the side of the door where Neville had pushed me, feeling Hermione, despite what she had said earlier, stiffened beside me. Malfoy seemed to feel my gaze upon him and turned, his own eyes as cold as the stone walls. He hesitated, ignoring the jeering taunts from his own house. It was probably meant to intimidate me. But I collected myself quickly, tipping my head slightly in a mock bow.

"Oh, after you. I don't think there if enough room for me and your ego."

Malfoy's expression, if possible, grew colder, his eyes narrowing. Hermione couldn't hold back her chuckle and most of the Gryffindors doubled over in laughter. I couldn't help but look back at Harry, who smiled broadly. Malfoy followed my gaze and his sneer curled even more.

"Better watch it, Goodrich," he muttered loud enough for only me to catch before he was gone.

…

"Just go up and stop them, then!" Ron said angrily.

Fred and Gorge were putting on a show in the common room. First, Fred would take a bite out of an orange and purple chew that resembled a stick of bubblegum. The moment he would swallow, the entire crowd that had gathered around them would start to cheer and whisper. Then, as if on cue, Fred would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had paced in front of him. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew and the vomiting would immediately cease. But with all the constant sounds of retching, cheering, and Fred and George taking advance Skiving Snackbox order from the eager crowd, I was finding it hard to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution.

"I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "They're quite within their rights to eat foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to look dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are . . ."

We all turned to watch George take his turn and projectile-vomit cleanly into the bucket.

"No offense," my hand flew to my throat as I forced down a gag, "but that's just nasty."

"You know, I don't get why they've only got three O.W.L.s each," Harry said as Fred and George and Lee Jordan collected gold from the group of flailing hands pushing the money in their faces. "They really know their stuff. . . ."

"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's no real use to anyone," Hermione said disparagingly.

"No real use?" I said. "No matter how gross I think that is, they have about twenty-six Galleons already, Hermione!"

The common room didn't die down until Fred dismissed the crowd, stating that sales were now closing. They stayed up even longer, counting their takings with gusto and Hermione continuing to eye them with a scowl. It was almost midnight when the three boys climbed up the staircase to their dormitory.

I had begun to feel the slight tension in the air well before Fred had dumped all the Galleons on a desk surrounded by three, scarlet cushioned chairs. Harry kept sending fleeting glances at Hermione, who in turn, moved her eyes off the forms of the twins to glance at me when she thought I wasn't looking. It hadn't taken that much to know I wasn't wanted. Sure, I was a friend to them but I was more like Neville. Someone who was only watching from the outside of the famous trio, who didn't share their secrets. I knew Harry thought he could trust me with many things, but with his ex-convict Godfather who had spent years framed in the worst wizard prison in the world? Not to mention the fact the entire wizard population hunted him.

I slammed by book shut so hard that Ron, who had been dozing in an armchair, gave a start.

"Well, I'm going to bed," I yawned, stretching my arms far over my head for a show. "Hermione?" I added politely, knowing she would just shake her head.

"Goodnight then," I smiled, gathering up my textbooks and quills before heading towards the staircase. I could feel eyes on my back until the spiral steps safely shadowed me. But instead of heading for my dormitory, I stopped, gripping my two books under one arm and tucking the quills away in my pocket. Crouching slowly, I poised gently on the third step and froze as Ron spoke.

"Sirius!"

"Hi!" I could tell Harry was grinning.

"Hi," a new, deep voice chuckled. Leaning my head around the corner, I saw the tops of the trio's heads leaning over the dimming fireplace. "How're things?"

"Not that good," Harry said. I pulled my head back to just listen. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams – "

"– or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" Sirius finished.

There was a short pause.

"How do you know about that," Harry's voice was very demanding.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," Sirius said, though he wasn't chastising. "The Hog's Head, I ask you . . . "

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione said defensively. "That's always packed with people – "

"– which is why you'd been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

"Who overheard us?" Harry said, not at all pleased.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius before he gave a laugh. "He was a witch under a veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Harry was stunned. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"Keeping an eye on you, of course," Sirius said impatiently.

"I'm still being followed?"

"Yeah, you are," Sirius said, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defense group."

"So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defense group?"

I shifted my weight, my left leg already starting to go numb.

"Me? Certainly not!" Sirius sounded genuinely surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

"You do?" Harry's voice immediately lifted, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

"Of course I do! Do you think your father and I would've lain down and taken order from an old hag like Umbridge?"

"But – last term all you told me was to be careful and not take risks – "

"Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you! This year we know that there's someone outside who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we get expelled?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, this thing was your idea!" Harry said so loudly that I tensed, ready to move.

"I know it was . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said and I could hear the defeat in her voice.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in a school without a clue," said Sirius.

"Hear, hear," both Harry and Ron said enthusiastically at the same time.

"So," said Sirius, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Andy knows a place she's showing us tomorrow," Harry said and I couldn't help the involuntary smile as he said my name. "The Room of Requirement."

"Andy?" The way Sirius said my name made the smile turn into a grin. I could just picture the look on his face. "Who's this girl and why have I not heard of her before?"

"I can't really write to you about everything," Harry was clearly embarrassed. "The letter you sent today with Hedwig was intercepted."

"Harry," Sirius suddenly sounded alarmed. "Why didn't – "

"Sirius?" Harry said anxiously. There was a long pause. I peered around the corner curiously, but the three of them were still around the fire. "Why did he – "

This time Harry broke off after Hermione gave a horrified gasp, leaping to her feet and pointing at the fire. I didn't have to see what she was looking at to know that they had all witnessed a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in old-fashioned rings grope through the flames as if trying to catch hold of something.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were suddenly running for the staircases. I jumped up, tripping over my feet as I took the steps two at a time, fearing that Hermione would catch up with me. My hand was stretching for the doorknob moments before I had actually reached it. By then I was well aware of Hermione's frantic footsteps echoing against the walls.

I shut the door as quietly as I could behind me and jumped into bed fully clothed, yanking the blankets over my robes. My textbooks landed next to my bed with a thud. The door opened then, a wide-eyed Hermione illuminated by the moonlight. She shut the door behind her, careful to let the lock slide into place slowly. Her hand was at her throat as she leaned heavily against the wood, sagging and panting. When I had leaped under the covers, I had forgotten to remove the quills from the robe pocket and they had begun to stab my side; unable to withstand the sharp pain any longer, I shifted my weight, the wood of the four-poster creaking under me.

Hermione's breath caught and I screwed my eyes shut, calming my own breathing to make it appear as if I was sleeping. She eventually detached herself from the door, the floorboards moaning under her feet. I didn't fall asleep until I was sure Hermione was in bed, though I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

…

"Show us then," Ron said as we paused at the blank wall across from the tapestry of the dancing trolls. We were on the seventh floor and it was thirty minutes before Hermione had said she had set the time up for our first Defense Against the Dark Arts club meeting.

Harry was poured over the Marauders Map. Hermione leaned over his shoulder and pointed to a set of footprints under a name that made me want to cringe.

"Umbridge's in her office. What about Filch?" she asked as Harry continued to search the page.

"The second floor while Mrs. Norris is on the fourth," he answered before tapping the parchment with his wand and the map of Hogwarts disappeared back into the paper. It had taken everything I had not to yank the map from his grip and stare at it longingly for days. But I had something more important to do. And if this didn't work, I knew I was going to be extremely embarrassed.

"You're supposed to walk past it three times while concentrating hard on what we you need," I explained.

"Well, go on," Ron said skeptically and Hermione smacked him on the shoulder. I turned and had a sudden wave of fear myself. I had no clue if this was really going to work, but it's what Rowling wrote, so I decided to give it a shot. I had already fainted in front of them, what else could be more embarrassing than that? A lot. But I really didn't want to think about it.

I passed the wall once, walking past a smirking Ron and to the pointed window before turning sharply at the man-sized vase.

. . . _we need somewhere to learn to fight . . . . just give us a place to practice. . . . somewhere they can't find us. . . ._

I had reached the vase again and wheeled around. My mind had cleared and only the three thoughts flew around, over and over.

. . . _we need somewhere to learn to fight. . . . just give us a place to practice. . . . somewhere they can't find us. . . ._

I turned for the last time, my eyes screwed shut in concentration.

. . . _we need somewhere to learn to fight. . . Please, I can't let Harry down . . ._

"Ron, I reckon you should apologize to Andy," Harry said in an awed voice. Right in front of me were large, polished, double doors. The handles were made of shiny brass and swung inward when I touched them. I had in my mind a witty remark to shove back into Ron's face, but my head could have been full of foam peanuts for all I knew as dozens of torches flickered to life by magic.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room held things like Secrecy Sensors, a large, cracked Foe-Glass that looked like the one in Moody's office that I had seen in the fourth movie. There were Snekoscopes and a dozen of books ranging from jinxes to self-defensive spells. Hermione gasped and rushed over to the shelves, plucking out a book I knew without even looking at it was _Jinxes for the Jinxed_, dropping onto one of the cushions.

"Andy, this is wonderful," Harry said. I felt something brush my arm. Harry's face flushed as my eyes met his. He gave an awkward smile and turned quickly before raising his head to look at the ceiling. But not quick enough. A small smile tugged at my lips as I recalled the feeling of his hand as it had brushed by elbow gently.

Ron was trying to make Hermione appear to be interested in the large, metal statue on wheels that stood in the corner when the doors slid open again.

I yelped and pulled my wand out from the pocket in my robes. Hermione shot me a curious look as Ginny, Neville, Pavarti, Lavender, and Dean entered. Blushing, I shoved my wand away and ran my hand through my hair. My mind had been wandering at the moment and I couldn't have helped but remember how Umbridge had busted the door open. But it was way too early for that. And I couldn't admit that Umbridge didn't scare me. I'd be lying if I had said that.

"Whoa, Harry," Dean said, verbalizing everything that was on each of their faces. "What is this place?"

"Thank Andy," Harry smiled. I could have sworn my heart did a flip.

Each cushion was full at seven o'clock, as if the Room had known exactly how many people were going to show up. Harry walked over to the door and turned the key that was protruding from the lock and it slid into place with a loud satisfying click. Everyone fell silent at the noise and out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed Hermione mark her page in the book before setting it aside.

"Well," Harry started, twirling his wand nervously through his fingers, "this is the place we've found for practices, and you've – er – obviously found it alright –"

"It's brilliant!" Cho exclaimed and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," said Fred, frowning. "We once hid from Filch on here, remember, George? But then it was just a broom cupboard . . ."

"Yes, well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and – er – what Hermione?" Harry paused when he noticed her hand in the air. I had to hold back a laugh at how proper she looked while the others were slumped against their cushions.

"I think we ought to elect a leader."

"Harry's leader," said Cho almost at once with a hint to her voice the made my stomach twist. Harry gave a nervous smile as she gazed at him through her thick lashes.

"Yes, but I think we should vote on it properly," Hermione continued, undisturbed by Cho's outburst. "It makes it formal and gives him authority. So – everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everyone's hand shot up, even Zacharias Smith. Though only after Ginny, who had been sitting next to him, shoved her elbow hard into his ribs.

"Er – right, thanks," Harry said, clearly unsure of what to say. He opened his mouth to continue. "And – _what_ Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?" She looked pleased with herself.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina said hopefully.

"Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred suggested.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, frowning in Fred's direction, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside of meetings."

"The Defense Association?" Cho said. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"The D.A.'s good," I said. "But let's make it Dumbledore's Army. Because that's the Ministry's worst fear."

Harry looked impressed. Ron laughed along with others, who were giggling at how true my statement was. Hermione kneeled upon her cushion and addressed everyone bossily.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" It was quiet for a moment as she counted the raised hands. I raised mine, knowing the outcome anyway.

"Majority rules – Dumbledore's Army!"

She took out the piece of paper with all their names on it and pinned it to the wall, writing in bright red letters _DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY_ across the top.

"Right," Harry said when she sat down again, "shall we get practicing then I was thinking, first we'd start on Disarming Charms. _Expelliarmus_ is pretty basic but I've found it really useful –"

"Oh _please_," Zacharias rolled his eyed after folding his arms. "I don't think a charm like _Expelliarmus_ is going to exactly help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I used it against him," he said slowly. "It saved my life last June."

Zacharias opened his mouth stupidly but decided for the best to shut it. The room had turned dead silent again.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Harry said, any traces of his nervousness leaving. I was finally starting to see the young man who would defeat the most feared man alive.

Zacharias did not move, nor did anybody else.

"Alright," Harry moved on, his eyes drifting away from Smith and upon the back of the group. "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Everyone got to their feet and at once divided and spread out throughout the room. Predictably, Neville was left standing by himself.

"You can practice with me," I stepped forward as Harry opened his mouth to offer himself up as a partner. Harry gave me a thankful look as he backed up and addressed everyone around the room, raising his voice slightly. I couldn't help but notice how soft his hair looked in the refection of the torches, almost like its own black flame.

"Right – on the count of three, then – one, two, three –"

The room was full of shouts of "_Expelliarmus!"_ Wands flew in all directions. Some spells missed their targets and soared to hit the books on shelves, sending them flying into air. I was too quick for Neville and sent his wand spinning out of his hand. The movement had come almost too natural to me. It had only taken a flick of my wrist and a mumble of the word for Neville's wand to disappear atop a bookshelf. Smiling, I retrieved it with a Summoning Charm before handing it back to its opened-mouth owner.

I hadn't really mentioned how quickly magic had come to me. It was almost like I had been practicing it all my life, at the ease it seemed to come at. Well, I could just say I was more skilled than Neville, who had been studying magic four years more than me. No matter how much I liked Neville, I knew he wasn't the most skilled in the class anyway. At least not yet.

I glanced around to see how well other people were doing. Harry was across the room telling off Fred and George who had been messing with Zacharias as he was attempting to disarm his partner, Anthony Goldstein. Each time Zacharias had opened his mouth, the twins would make his own wand fly out of his hands before they each doubled up in laughter at his confused face Ginny was teamed up with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas her boyfriend was either extremely bad or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get under his guard. The Creevey brothers were erratic and mainly responsible for many of the books that had whizzed by my face. Luna, on the other hand, sent Justin Finch-Fletchley's robes over his head with a flick instead of his wand.

My eyes found Harry's back again and with a jolt I recognized the silky, dark waterfall of hair he was nodding to. Cho jabbed out with her wand at her partner but made the girl's sleeve catch fire. Cho's knees bent in horror as she turned her head slightly to Harry, who was smiling, leaving her partner to extinguish the flames on her own. My stomach tensed and I felt like I had just swallowed one of the Weasley's puking candies.

"Expelliarmus!" someone shouted and I felt my wand fly out of my hand and smack Alicia Spinnet square in the nose. Distracted, I turned away from Cho's form as Luna Lovegood walked up to break their conversation, exactly on cue.

"I DID IT! I've never done it before," Neville said, "I – I DID IT!"

"Good one," I said encouragingly, unwilling to tell Neville that his opponents was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at their side. Suddenly there was the piercing sound of a whistle and everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't bad," Harry said, dropping a black whistle from his lips he hadn't had a few moments before. "But we're overrun; we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean Thomas shouted eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," Harry said, "and we can decide on additional meetings then." Everyone nodded in agreement. "Come on, we'd better get going."

Harry took out the Marauder's Map again and checked it quickly before letting everyone out in groups of twos and threes, watching their tiny dots anxiously until they returned to their separate dormitories.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "did you watch me disarm Hermione?"

"Only once," Hermione said, slightly stung. "I got you loads of times and you only got me that one time –"

"I did not get you only once, I got you at least three times –"

"Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped and over your own feet and knocked my wand out of my hand –"

"No I'm not!" Ron said defensively. "And it wasn't my own feet! Justin's robes got in the way."

"Right," Hermione drawled and Ron gave up with a heave of a sigh. I laughed and Harry just shook his head mockingly.

"You two go ahead. We'll catch up," Harry nodded towards the two who were bickering like an old married couple. Ron, still trying to come up with a comeback for Hermione, slid one of the double doors open just wide enough for both of them to slip through, mumbling to himself. Hermione followed, leaving the door open a few inches behind her.

"That was really, really good, Harry" I smiled as Ron and Hermione disappeared from sight but their footprints were quickly darting along the map.

"I wouldn't be thanking me, Andy," Harry rested his hand on the doorknob, glancing back once at the Marauder's map before easing the door open. I followed him, watching with fascination as the doors melted into a solid wall. It was dark, and I was thankful that the shadows hid the heat that rushed up to my cheeks as Harry's hand brush down the side of my arm, to lead me forward.

"Very few know about the Room or Requirement," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper as it echoed through the empty corridor. "Mostly people just stumble across it when they need it."

"Like you did?" I was very aware of how close Harry seemed to be walking next to me.

"Yeah," I lied.

"And what did you need?"

I let out a laugh, pulling my lips into a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "That's for only me to know."

"Really? That's your excuse?" Harry chuckled.

I let out a mock gasp. "What's wrong with my answer? Not very satisfying?"

"Not at all," Harry said. "But I – " he cut himself off suddenly, his eyes on the map that was illuminated briefly in the only lit torch in the hall.

"What is –" my words were lost as Harry's fingers were suddenly around my wrist, yanking me forward into a silent sprint. It was when we were at the end of the long corridor that I heard the sound of heels clanging against the hard floor. But they were coming too fast. Harry slid to a stop as we both pressed ourselves to the wall below a large portrait.

"It's – " Harry didn't dare to finish as the sound of heels stopped and I was looking at the small, rounded shape of Umbridge at the end of the corridor. She stood still in the tight pool of light that lit most of the hall, her eyes like daggers through the darkness. For a moment, I believed she had spotted us, but abruptly she turned on her heel and, with a flick of her stubby wand, the torch blew out, casting the entire corridor in darkness. I dared myself to move slowly, for I knew the sooner we got out of there the better chance we had at not getting caught. It was when I found the corner of the hall that I reached blindly into the dark to grab Harry's arm. Or what I hoped was his arm; it was so dark that I could barely see a few feet in front of me. Umbridge's footsteps started up again, a small blue orb conjuring above her head. Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Umbridge turned the corner and disappeared, along with her ball of light.

"Never do that to me again," I whispered as I yanked Harry into the other corridor. This one was at least not pitch black as the moonlight that streamed through the tall windows kept me from banging into things. I knew my way back to the common room from there and wasted no time in putting less distance between it and me and more between me and that horrible woman.

"What? Save your life?" Harry was just as startled as I was. "How was I supposed to know she was going to show up?"

"No, you can't just grab me like that! I think you stopped my heart!" I was being serious in many ways. He really had caused my stomach to knot as I my feet had almost been pulled out from under me, but it had felt like my whole arm had went up in flames the moment we had touched. Harry laughed quietly at this, inhaling deeply as we both fought to keep ourselves calm.

We didn't talk the rest of the way back until the portrait door had swung closed behind me. Ron and Hermione were standing in the middle of the common room and both their eyes grew wide simultaneously as they took in our estranged expressions.

"What happened?"

"Umbridge," Harry said.

"What was she doing?" Ron sounded appalled.

"Prowling the hallways like an animal," I said. "Probably had nothing better to do anyway."

"And you didn't see her on the map?" said Hermione.

"Not until it was almost too late," Harry shook his head. "Unless I missed it before, which I highly doubt."

As late as I had stayed up last night, it didn't take long for me to slide into the familiar feeling of drossiness. I fell asleep with my wand entwined gently in my fingers, letting a small orb of blue light balanced at the tip fade into the air as I closed my eyes.


	13. Weasley Is Our King

I was walking in along, windowless corridor with my footsteps echoing in the silence. There was a door at the end of the passage that became larger with every step I took. My heart began to beat fast with excitement. . . If only I could open it . . . enter beyond . . .

I stretched out my hand. . . .My fingertips were inches from it. . . .

"Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy taunted across from the Slytherin table. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at Harry, who was gazing curiously at the arm I had stretched over the table. Realizing what I was doing, that I had involuntarily reached out as I had dreamed about the door, I grabbed the thing that was closest to my hand: a roll. Across from me, Ron fumed. His ears practically glowed as he dug the fork clenched in his hand deeper into the wooden table.

As the first Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, our D.A. meetings had been put on hold because Angelina had insisted on almost daily practices. Because of the Triwizard Tournament last year, the Quidditch Cup had not been awarded since Harry's third year. The excitement for all four houses buzzed around the school as the weeks had narrowed into days. Even the staff seemed mildly amused, except for maybe Snape, but he always looked that way.

Ron stared at his heaping plate of eggs and bacon and for the first time in his life chose to ignore it.

"Ron, you have to eat," Hermione said for the fifth time.

"Unless you want to see it again, I prefer not," Ron choked out. Harry looked up from his piece of toast with sympathy but continued eating. A group of Slytherins past our table again, sniggering and pointing in Ron's direction.

"I don't think I can do this," Ron said in a croaky whisper. "I must have been mental."

"It's normal to be nervous," I said, giving a reassuring smile. " You're going to be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Ron snapped, yanking the fork out of the wood to throw it on the table. "I'm rubbish. I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life; what was I thinking?"

"Get a grip," Harry said sternly. "Look at the save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant – "

"That was an accident," Ron turned towards Harry with a tortured look on his face. "I didn't mean to do it – I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and was trying to get back on when I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

Hermione made a little 'o' with her lips. Harry's expression was none of the better but at least he tried to cover it up. Ron huffed, stabbing at his food roughly before dropping his fork and collapsing his head into his hands.

"We'll, a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag isn't it?"

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind me. Both Harry and I had to turn, freezing at the same time as we saw exactly who it was. Though maybe it wasn't just because of who it was.

Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table and this time I could have turned to the resort of calling her Loony. Many people were laughing openly at the enlarged had shaped like a life-sized lion's head that was perched precariously on her own. Draco Malfoy was in fits when I glanced over at the Slytherin table, pointing dramatically towards Luna. Sure, it was magnificent, but I almost wanted to yank the ridiculous thing off her head.

"I'm supporting Gryffindor," Luna said. I had to bite back the quick remark of a '_really'_?

"Look what it does," she continued, unperturbed by the look on all our faces. She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the Great Hall jump.

"It's good isn't it?" Luna said happily. "I wanted to have it chewing a serpent, to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway. . . good luck, Ronald!"

She drifted away, causing many eyes to follow her until she left the Great Hall. We were still all in shock from her hat when Angelina came up and ordered everyone to the Quidditch pitch. Harry waved lightly in my direction before leaving, barely raising his hand. It wasn't until I had already responded and turned to say something to Hermione did I see the dark-haired Ravenclaw Harry had really been looking at.

As we passed a group of Slytherin students I caught a glimpse of the crown-shaped badges they were handing out among each other. Curious, I craned my neck in their direction and immediately snapped my head back around as I read the words etched into them:

_**WEASLEY**_

_**IS OUR KING**_

When Ginny saw the glint of them in the sun, I pulled her around before she could read them, saying something that I can't even remember. The last thing she needed was to see those. I had an unpleasant feeling in my stomach as we walked down the stone steps that lead to the grounds. There was no wind and the sky was almost a white color as we walked out into the icy air. When I finally saw the Quidditch Pitch, I gasped. Beside me, Ginny grinned at my expression, but I barely paid any attention to her. She had to almost drag me up the staircase that lead to the top of the stadium as I kept stopping to take in something that had caught my eye.

It was huge, bigger than any other stadium I had been in. In the back of my mind, I vaguely wondered what the professional Quidditch World Cup stadium must have looked like compared in size but my mind wandered as I caught the glint of the six gold hoops that towered above the seats. There were three at each end, the middle hoops a good six feet above the others. There was a circle of white sand in the middle of the pitch that reminded me of soccer. In the centre was a large wooden trunk that I knew held the only four balls of the game. The seats were all wooden benches and circled around the playing area that easily reached the length of two football fields and with a jolt I realized they were at least four stories off the ground. My stomach twisted and I had to fight to turn my head back towards Ginny, who was disappearing higher into the stands. The colors of every house were draped in satin cloth around each section of the stands, billowing in the wind. In the raised towers I saw the places where the staff and visitors sat. McGonagall sat in the Gryffindor tower with a dark skinned boy I recognized as Lee Jordon, who was in front of a small box with an object that resembled a microphone up to his ear.

Ginny and Hermione finally stopped at a group of seats between Neville and Dean Thomas, who had his face painted scarlet for the occasion. I gripped the wooden railing in front of me like my life depended on it, unable to stop the thought of how many people I would smash into if I actually fell. But my thoughts were interrupted as the people in the Gryffindor stands started cheering like banshees. I directed my attention to the field and saw the tiny red figures that were the Gryffindor Quidditch team. We were so high up . . . I didn't even want to think about it. But no one else seemed bothered by the towering height of the stadiums, in fact, Neville complained that they weren't high enough.

The Slytherins opposite the stadium burst into boos until a bunch of little green dots flew onto the pitch, stopping across from the Gryffindors in the starting circle. A figure in black flew down and landed in the centre of the circle and tucked their broom to their side. I remembered the Umpire or referee, in my case, was the spunky Madam Hooch. I could see her pointed hair even from where I was sitting. My eyes scanned through the small group of players. I saw Fred and George's blazing hair against their robes standing behind the tall dark form of Angelina. Alicia and Katie stood on either side of them while Harry stood with Ron, who's shoulders were slumped, in the very back.

On the Slytherin side, I didn't recognize any of them except three. Crabbe and Goyle stood stupidly away from the group like they had no clue what was going on, made distinctive by their size. Malfoy stood in front of them, intently staring across the pitch, making rude gestures with his hands. I could automatically guess he was looking at Harry and Ron.

Madam Hooch said something and Angelina stepped forward with a scary-looking boy from Slytherin to shake hands. The whole stadium grew quiet as Madam Hooch opened her mouth again and everyone mounted their brooms at the same moment, each poised and ready to kick off the ground.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the truck opened magically underneath the whizzing figures of red and green. The red Quaffle flew directly into the waiting hands of Angelina as she dived under the Slytherin captain's awaiting grasp. Two dark balls that were the Bludgers made a carking sound as George wacked one against his mallet, directly at a Slytherin Chaser. I barely caught the gold glint of the snitch before it disappeared but Harry zoomed forward on his Firebolt, Malfoy tagging along behind him at a blinding speed.

It was all almost too much to watch. Something was always happening and my human eyes couldn't take in it all. In the distance I heard a lion roar and I internally laughed as I thought of Luna. I must have looked confused because Ginny handed me a pair of strange looking binoculars and I took them warily.

"Look through the lenses in that direction," Ginny pointed to the Gryffindor goal. "It helps."

In my excitement, I had forgotten exactly what the contraption was called, but when I put the binoculars up to my eyes, it was the clearest thing I had ever seen. I could make out almost every detail as Ron sat nervously on his broom, looking like he was about to vomit fifty feet up in the air.

"And it's Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me –"

"JORDAN!" I heard Professor McGonagall yell, her voice captured by the microphone.

This time I truly laughed. It was just perfect. Everything. Down to what every person said or did.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger by Crabbe. . . Montague catches the Quaffle, heading it back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away – "

As Lee had been talking I could hear the Slytherins chanting something from across the pitch. My stomach twisted as I remembered the silver badges and zoomed in my binoculars in on the Slytherin's side of the stadium.

" – dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd love this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Lee paused to listen to the song that was now clearly audible from across the pitch from the green and silver section of the stadium.

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing;_

_Weasley is our King._

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King._

" – Alicia passes back to Angelina," Lee's voice boomed louder than ever and I knew he was trying to drown out the sound of the singing. But it was too late. The Slytherins were getting louder and I saw Ron's face contort and turn the brightest red I had seen yet as the words finally hit him.

"Come on now, Angelina – looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aaaah. . . "

The Slytherin Keeper saved the goal with one small swipe and threw the Quaffle to Warrington, who started zigzagging down the pitch, whipping by Katie and Alicia. The signing had started to get louder as he grew nearer to Ron.

_Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King._

In the corner of my binoculars, I saw Harry wheel around to watch Ron, who had tensed in front of the hoops, his red face showing the fear he felt as Warrington flew at him, the Quaffle tucked under one long arm.

" – and it's Warrington with the Quaffle heading for the goal, he's out of Bludger range and it's just him and the Keeper – "

The Slytherins swelled with the song, covering the stadium with their voices.

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring. . ._

" – so it's the first test for the new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent to the team – come on, RON!" Lee ended up shouting.

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin's as Ron slipped as he lunged for the Quaffle, the ball going through the gap and into the central hoop.

"Slytherin score," Lee said among the cheers of the crows below. I saw Ron sink on his broom as if trying to make himself disappear. My eyes locked on the back of a black haired, pug face of a girl I could only guess was Pansy Parkinson, right in front of the stands across the pitch, conducting the Slytherin supporters who were all roaring with the song. Ginny was fuming, muttering something that isn't appropriate for paper .

Harry and Malfoy were still circling the stadium. With a great sigh of the Gryffindor team, Ron let in two more goals. The Slytherins shrieked in excitement.

_THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING;_

_WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_

_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,_

_WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN –_

But suddenly Harry was diving to the ground with Malfoy on his tail. I jumped up and down in excitement, knowing the outcome of the game, but the thrill taking me over anyway. I grabbed Hermione's shoulder and pointed into the air as Harry came closer to the ground at a breath-taking speed. Every Gryffindor supporter seemed to hold their breath as Malfoy caught up, a blur of green, when suddenly Harry pulled up, no more than five feet from the ground. Malfoy yanked his broom skyward in defeat, dropping to the ground with a vile expression. I was the first to scream in the stands as Harry punched his arm into the air, the wings of the snitch wiggling helplessly in his fist.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee's voice was so loud that it cut off the Slytherins pathetic song at once. Ginny threw her arms around me in delight and Luna's lion let out a roar of approval. I was caught up in my excitement, hugging people I didn't even take one look at (but we were all supporting Gryffindor so I guess it really didn't matter) until I saw Goyle eye his Bludgers bat in his meaty fist as one of the grey balls came whizzing his direction. His eyes flickered towards Harry, who's back turned.

"HARRY!" I shouted and Hermione and Ginny both looked into the air at the same time. Of course Harry couldn't hear me, but several Gryffindors turned back to the Quidditch pitch.

The Bludger hit Harry squarely in the back and he flew forward off his broom. Thankfully he was only a few feet off the ground, but there was no way the fall didn't hurt as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. There were a bunch of angry yells from the Gryffindors, including mine, as Angelina rushed up to Harry, who was lying silently on the ground. She held up a hand to help him up and he stood slowly. The high pitch scream of Madam Hooch's whistle echoed as she zoomed towards Goyle, shaking her fist at him in anger.

"That git deserves whatever he gets," Ginny spat. "That was a major foul."

"Hermione," I said warily as they both looked back at me. I hadn't taken my eyes away from Malfoy and Harry, who were talking to each other, and not in a good way. Malfoy said something and suddenly Fred and George were running. Harry grabbed George by the collar of his uniform as he shouted at the Gryffindor chasers, who pinned down Fred, though he was almost too much for all three of the girls.

I could picture the conversation. Malfoy bragging about his part in the song, insulting both Harry and Fred's parents. He suddenly opened his mouth one last time and Harry was no longer holding George back. Malfoy screamed and fell to the ground as Harry's fist connected with his stomach. Madam Hooch turned away from Goyle as screams from both sides of the stands grew louder as Harry and George continued to beat up Malfoy, who had resorted to curling into the fetal position. The Gryffindors were cheering louder than they had in the game while the Slytherins yelled profanities over the pitch.

Harry flew backwards as a purple jet of light came from Madam Hooch's wand. She yelled at them and pointed towards Hogwarts with her wand, her spiky hair making her look like an angered pixie. Harry and George stalked off the field as Malfoy staggered to his feet, his lip busted.

"That's not going to be good," Hermione said ominously.

"No, it's not," I mumbled to myself, too quietly for either of them to hear.

…

"Banned," Angelina said in a hollow voice. It was later that same evening and Harry was telling her how Umbridge had ambushed McGonagall's punishment after the game.

"_Banned_. No Seeker _and_ no Beaters . . . What on earth are we going to do?"

It did not feel like they had won to any of us. The whole team was slumped around the fire in the common room while Hermione, Ginny and I stood alone in the back corner, unwilling to get in the middle of it all. Ron hadn't been seen since the game, when he had walked off the pitch alone.

"It's just so unfair," Alicia said numbly. "I mean, what 'bout Goyle and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"

"No," said Katie. "He just got lines. I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" Alicia cried again. She pounded her knee with her fist.

"It's not my fault I didn't," Fred said with a very ugly look on his face. "I would've pounded the little scumbag into a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."

It was quiet as no one had anything else to say. I stared miserably out the window. It was snowing now, the cold finally catching up with us. Usually I would have been excited, but now the sight made me a bit sick. The stolen snitch Harry had caught zoomed past my face and throughout the common room, having been left forgotten in the giant mess. Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.

"I'm going to bed," Angelina said. "Maybe this will all turn out to be a bad dream. . . . Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet. . . ."

Alicia and Katie followed her. The twins left soon after and Ginny followed minutes later. Hermione and I moved to sit next to Harry by the fire. He didn't look at either of us as we sat down.

"Have you seen Ron?" I asked in a low voice.

Harry shook his head.

"I think he's avoiding us," Hermione said, but at the exact moment the Fat Lady swung forward and Ron cam through the portrait hole, very pale and snow scattered in his hair. When he saw us he stopped in his tracks.

"Where have you been?" Hermione jumped to her feet.

"Walking," Ron mumbled, not meeting her probing eyes. He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform.

"You look frozen," Hermione said, changing her tone with one look at his face. "Come and sit down."

Ron sank down in the chair that was the furthest from Harry, who still hadn't looked up. Ron set his broom down by his feet, clearing his throat as an awkward attempt to fill the silence.

"I'm sorry," Ron looked at his feet.

"What for?" Harry's head snapped up, his forehead creased in confusion.

"For thinking I could play Quidditch," said Ron. "I'm going to resign the first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," Harry said with an ugly tone to his voice, "there'll be only three players left on the team." When Ron looked puzzled Harry continued, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So have Fred and George."

"What?" Ron yelped.

Hermione explained everything, for Harry didn't look like he could continue speaking about it. I don't know what I was thinking but my hand was suddenly on the armrest of Harry's chair, next to his arm. I could have sworn Harry tried to smile but failed miserably, his lips pulling into a comical grimace that would have been hysterical if not for the serious of the situation. Hermione continued to inform Ron, whose face was growing even paler with each word.

"This is all my fault – " Ron began but Harry cut him off.

"You didn't make me punch Malfoy –"

" – if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch –"

" – it's got nothing to do about that – "

" – it was the song that wound me up – "

" – it would have wound anyone up – "

Harry got to his feet suddenly, his own hand brushing mine as he used the armrests to push himself up. I pulled my hand back into my lap sharply as Harry hesitated, his green eyes flashing for a moment before he turned back to Ron.

"Look, drop it, will you? It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything!" It was silent again and I stared at the fireplace until Ron sighed, sagging back in his chair.

"This is the worst I've ever felt in my life," Ron said dully.

"Join the club," Harry said bitterly.

Hermione shook her head, standing to walk over towards the window, watching the snowfall. She stopped just before the window, wrapping her arms around her waist, her face covered by her hair.

"I'm going to bed," Harry grumbled before stomping up the stone steps, Ron following a few minutes later so that Hermione and I were the only people in the common room.

"I guess I'll go to bed too," I mumbled. Hermione nodded as if, for once, she had nothing to say. We met each other at the foot of the staircase and ascended together.

"A lifelong ban," Hermione said slowly. "It doesn't seem like she could do that."

"I think Umbridge has a bit more bark than she has bite, if you know what I'm saying."

"I know," Hermione gave a faint smile at the cliché quote. "But it just seems so absurd. And for Goyle to get lines? And I'm guessing not the kind of lines you hand Harry had to suffer through."

The back of my hand tingled uncomfortably at the memory. "No, I doubt it. She's not very good at hiding favorites."

"I bet if Goyle had hit Harry hard enough to send him to the Hospital wing, Umbridge still would have found a way to blame the situation on him instead of Goyle."

I didn't want to think about that. "Well, even though the Ministry is behind this, I don't think Umbridge is going to be 'High Inquisitor' forever. She may think she can handle a bunch of school children, but she seems to forget that she's surrounded by children who have one thing in common - how much they hate her."

"So what are you suggesting?" Hermione's eyebrows knotted together as she tried to keep up with me.

"I give her a few more months and then we'll see how much she enjoys being High Inquisitor," I smiled, opening the door to our dormitory, leaving Hermione standing outside.


	14. Impedimenta

The Quidditch season was put on hold for the upcoming Christmas Break. I had been dreading the weeks more and more as it came closer. Everyone would be going home to see their families and friends and I didn't even know how to contact mine. It was then starting to dawn upon me I really had a serious problem. It had been months. I guess I had thrown around the word in passing but I had never paused to think of what it had actually meant. My dreams never lasted this long. But how could it _not_ be a dream? The thought kept nagging at me. These books were obviously in the Fiction section of each library department I ever went to, and was even listed as one.

Angelina had managed to find replacements for the team though, to Fred, George, and Harry's pleasure and disappointment. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper were the two new beaters, even though Angelina had admitted they weren't exactly on the brilliant side, but were pretty good compared to the other idiots who had showed up. And to Harry's surprise, Ginny Weasley had taken his spot as seeker. Angelina had to assure him that she was nothing like him when he shot her a dirty look as she had complimented on how good Ginny had been at tryouts.

D.A. lessons had started back up and people started to forget about the Quidditch nightmare. Slowly. I still heard Angelina mumbling to herself about Goyle's foul when I passed her in the hall on my way to the library two weeks later.

Shutting the dormitory door behind me, I descended down the staircase ten minutes before the D.A. lesson. I could hear their voices drifting through the staircase softly, hushed but inflicted.

"What?" Ron said. "Like a spy for the Ministry?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "She has expressed her dislike for Umbridge many times, Hermione! She even found the Room of Requirement for us! Why would she be spying?"

My blood ran cold and my legs seemed to lock on the staircase, five steps from the bottom.

"I never said that," Hermione snapped. "I'm just putting the thought out there. It's not like I'm the only one who's noticed."

I leaned against the wall, my hand instinctively going to the pocket in my robe that held my wand. This wasn't good.

"No," Harry said again, but this time I didn't like the tone of his voice. A first-year stopped suddenly three steps away, seeing me pressed up against the wall. I pushed him forward, bringing a finger sharply to my lips. The girl turned over her shoulder to look at me once more before stepping into the common room. The trio grew silent until the portrait door had shut behind her.

"Like last night," Hermione continued quickly. "She was confusing me with all this talk about Umbridge's ban. . . . Harry, it's almost like she knew beforehand. Did you notice that when you told us her expression didn't change?"

"Maybe she was still thinking of that embarrassing goal I let in," Ron chuckled stupidly. Hermione ignored him.

"First it was Umbridge's speech and I thought, well, anyone who was actually listening to her could deduce that," she paused. "But there have been other things also."

"Like . . ." Hearing Harry's voice made me cringe.

"Lavenders rabbit," Hermione said. "I still remember it, the first day of term. The password to our bathroom is Binky, the name of her dead bunny. Stop laughing Ronald, it's rude."

"So?" A part of my heart lifted at the fact Harry sounded unconvinced.

"She knew it before any of us had even mentioned it around her. And then she says something about the rabbit. Lavender doesn't talk in her sleep, like Andy said. I would be the one to know."

"A lucky guess?" Ron said.

"I don't think so," said Hermione.

What was I going to do? I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.

"Well, just because she knew the name of Lavender's rabbit doesn't mean she's out to destroy Hogwarts, Hermione," Harry said.

"I know," she admitted, "I'm just . . . I don't understand it."

"What? Hermione doesn't understand something?" Ron chuckled again and there was a loud thud of something hitting skin.

"It was just a joke," Ron moaned. "Now I know what Malfoy went through. Geez, Hermione, where did you learn to punch like that?"

"We're going to be late," Harry said hastily and I heard the rustling of clothes as he stood.

"I'm not saying we do anything about it now." I was starting to get really irritated with Hermione. She spoke of me like I was some kind of subject. Another thing for her to study. "But I want you to just watch. See if you notice what I'm noticing."

"I have noticed, Hermione," Harry said, "but I don't think Andy's anything like the things we are learning to defend ourselves against in the D.A."

"I told you, Harry, I don't either," Hermione was clearly agitated. "But Andy knows something she's not telling us, and we _all_ know it. _You_ just can't get past the blue eyes."

At first I thought Harry was going to retaliate. The tension in the air around them was almost tangible; I could picture the scene, but every fiber in my body told me not to look around the corner. A part of me wanted to just jump out and prove them wrong. But how that would have been possible and still result in being labeled as normal . . . I couldn't think of any situation that didn't involve me ending up as loony sounding as the Divination teacher. And I knew from experience she wasn't a good loony. Harry, Ron and Hermione all thought she was troubled and insane. I didn't think I would have been able to keep dreaming something like that if Harry thought I was a –

"Right," Harry said. I couldn't take it anymore. Risking a glimpse, the trio's backs were to me, all heading for the portrait hole in silence. "Let's go. We are going to be late."

…

"Okay," Harry said. The room had filled up fast; everyone was in a hurry to practice at the last meeting we were going to have for a while, since Christmas was coming up. "I thought this time we'd should just go over the things we've done so far because there's really no point starting something new right before a three-week break – "

"We're not going to do anything new?" Zacharias Smith said in a drifting whisper. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come –"

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you," Fred said loudly and several people sniggered. I even had to laugh at the expression on the git's face.

"We can practice in pairs," said Harry. "We'll start out with the Impediment Jinx, just for then minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

There were hushed whispers as we all divided obediently. I partnered up with Neville as usual and soon the room was full of intermittent cries of "_Impedimenta_!" People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly at other groups. I hit Neville first and then waited for him to take aim at me. His first shot missed and hit Padma Patil as her partner was raising her wand. She yelped when Padma froze before she had even said anything. But after what had happened, I couldn't concentrate on the things around me. None of them knew I had listened to their conversation, though I did notice the reoccurring glances that kept coming from Hermione. But it wasn't like they were acting any different towards me. In fact, if I hadn't been listening beforehand, I wasn't sure if even I would have been able to tell. Hermione still talked to me in her proper, formal chatter, like she did everyone else. Ron even tapped me on the shoulder to ask if I had any suggestions on getting under her guard while she was frozen under the jinx. It was only Harry who I was worried about. I hadn't spoken to him and the green eyes darted in my direction more than once were clearly troubled.

I managed to hit Neville three more times until the jet of purple light that flew from his wand hit me in the arm. It was like my limbs had suddenly turned to stone. I stood frozen for a few minutes, unable to move anything but my eyes. My gaze wandered around the room while Neville waited for me to 'defrost'. There wasn't anything wrong with being jinxed, though I never did like the uncomfortable feeling of letting someone hit you when you knew it was coming. And I was also disappointed when I couldn't laugh as Zacharias jinxed himself after Fred had sent a spell that caused his wand to backfire.

I was just starting to get the feeling back into my limbs when Harry started laying out cushions and soon everyone stalled to a halt. The room wasn't big enough for everyone to practice Stunning at the same time, so Harry spilt the pairs into two groups and while one worked, the other observed. I fell back onto the jumble of pillows when it was Neville's turn to Stun me. Though it had taken him a couple tries for his spell to actually hit me. The first time he hit Zacharias Smith, who had been watching close by, and I had wondered if it had actually been an accident as, after I regained consciousness, he had been muttering something about the twins. Fred and George had cracked up like the time Dudley had swallowed one of their toffees that made his tongue grow absurdly long.

The sensation wasn't a good one. It was as if someone had taken a metal object to your chest. My entire body constricted, and then everything was black. I tired to get my revenge later, but for some reason I couldn't knock Neville out for more than a few moments. As I watched everyone around me, certain people remained out for minutes at a time. I was doing so poorly Harry even noticed, attempting to give me tips and techniques. To say I was embarrassed was the least of it. Harry tried to console me, saying I would master it eventually. But it still made me angry I couldn't perform a simple Stunning spell.

At the end of the hour, Harry blew his whistle again.

"You're getting really good," he said. It was true, all of us were getting better. Even Neville had stopped hitting so many stray objects and now hit his target seventy-five percent of the time.

"When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff – maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement as everyone left, wishing each other a Merry Christmas. Soon there were only a few people left, the Weasley twins parting with the majority of the group after an announcement of a Wizard Wheezes Holiday Sale. Harry was across the room, heading towards the full-length mirror that of course the one Ravenclaw student I didn't want to see was standing in front of. Alone. What was the point of me even trying? After what I had heard, there was no way I stood a chance anymore. Like I ever did anyway. My feet seemed to drag as I followed Ron and Hermione through the large doors. I didn't glance back, afraid at what I would see.

The hallway was silent as we made way back to the common room. I got to the Fat Lady first and she swung open as I mumbled the password. That's where we waited, by the always-roaring fire. Awkward wouldn't be the right word. It wasn't anything like the definition of awkward. Well, maybe until I tried to strike up a conversation. I had never been good anyway on a moments notice and doing it in front of people who suspected I was maybe working with Umbridge wasn't helping. I almost laughed aloud at the thought. Umbridge? But what else were they supposed to guess? I guess it did look funny, the way I knew things. Why did Hermione have to be so observant? It wasn't my fault things did slide every now and then; it was not like I could really help it. I was in a daze, a happy daze. But put the emphasis on _was_. Now. . . . I didn't even want to think about that.

The portrait door opened about twenty minutes later, saving me from continuing the topic of how interesting the multiple meanings of runes were. I knew nothing about the subject but desperate to keep Hermione talking, I nodded, sighed and agreed on cue. Ron still had no idea why Hermione had dragged him out of the Room of Requirement without Harry and, sadly, he was still trying to figure it out. I knew the whole Cho thing wouldn't last, but it still made a strange feeling settle somewhere around my navel as Harry sank into the empty seat next to me on the couch. Deep down, I knew that whatever I was feeling for Harry wasn't going to change anything, including his own feelings for the stunning Ravenclaw girl.

"What kept you?" Ron said.

When Harry didn't answer Hermione turned to stare at him openly, using the same bossy, knowing tone that she had used earlier.

"Are you alright, Harry?" She asked. Her eyes flickered in my direction again. It was really starting to get on my nerves. I kept thinking about how she had described me earlier. And what did she have against my eye color? It's not like I could have helped it. She turned back to stare at Harry, who had begun to squirm underneath her gaze. Hermione knew exactly what was wrong with him, and that's what made the situation even more comical. But I didn't want to hear it from Harry. It was almost like he was shoving it in my face.

Harry only shrugged, trying to keep his eyes on the floor. It was then I had an idea. It was a wild shot, but it I knew it could work.

I spoke in place of Hermione: "Is it Cho?"

Hermione suddenly went tense and Harry gave me a surprised look. Ron gave a strangled sound that had a small resemblance to a snicker.

"What?" I said. "Down in Hogsmeade you _yourself_, Hermione, said that Cho had something for Harry. And then when she lingered behind after the meeting, I could only put the two together." I sort of threw the 'yourself' at the bushy-haired genius, making sure to stress the word.

Harry's eyes glimmered in the firelight, sending Hermione a message that might have said _I-told-you-so. _But it was gone quickly.

"So – er – what did she want?" Ron said in a casual voice.

"She – She – er – " Harry said rather hoarsely. He cleared his throat to continue stuttering for words but Hermione just cut it to the chase.

"Did you kiss?"

Ron sat up so fast that the chair tipped forward on two legs. I took him a moment to collect himself. "Well?" he demanded.

Harry looked at all of us in turn before jerking his head so quickly that if I would have blinked the question would still be unanswered. Ron let out a whoop, making both Hermione and me jump, and threw his fist up into the air. I grinned reluctantly as I watched Ron do something that could have qualified as a dance in his chair. Hermione, though, gave Ron a look of deep disgust.

"Well," Ron said in only a way he could. "How was it?"

Harry paused as he considered how to answer the question.

"Wet," he finally said.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or extreme disgust. It was hard to tell.

"Because she was crying," Harry admitted.

"Oh," Ron started to grin as he thought of his next remark. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," Harry looked a bit worried at the thought. "Maybe I am."

"'Course you're not," Hermione said absently.

"How do you know?" Ron said in a sharp voice and I suppressed a giggle as he looked at her in a mix of surprise and jealousy. Though I was torn between them, spending even the smallest amount with all three of them made me forget for the shortest moments. Forget how confused I was. The family I hadn't seen in four months. The fire. All my questions that didn't involve being doubted by the Golden Trio. I was happy enough just watching them.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," She said in a business-like tone. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron said, grinning.

"Ron," It was Hermione's turn to talk in a sharp voice. "You are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron said defensively. "What sort of person cries when someone's kissing them?"

"Yeah," Harry said and I caught the slight desperation in his voice, "who does?"

"Don't you understand how she's feeling at the moment?" I let Hermione do the talking. For once, I didn't want to get too involved.

"No," said Harry and Ron together

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

"One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode," Ron said.

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," Hermione said nastily and I heard a giggle slip through my lips. Thankfully Hermione didn't hear me. She looked ready to bite Ron's head off.

"She was the one who started it," Harry said. "I wouldn't – she just sort of came at me – and they next thing she's crying all over me – I didn't know what to do – "

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, looking alarmed at the thought.

"You just had to be nice to her," I said. Even though I was hesitant, I wasn't going to sit there and just listen like a strange bystander. I had been coming up with more reckless thoughts the longer Harry, Ron and Hermione talked. And all the ideas just said go for it. "You were, weren't you?" I added as Harry shot a nervous glance at Ron.

"Well, course," but Harry blushed and sighed. "I sort of – patted her on the back a bit."

Ron laughed so hard I wouldn't have been surprised if he had fallen to the floor. Hermione bowed her head slowly.

"I suppose it could've been worse," she said

Despite everything I tried, I not able to push down the strange feeling that swept through my entire body. I didn't know what it was, but as I stared at Harry's solemn face, I realized it was hope.

…

I fell asleep immediately only to have a nightmare.

I didn't realize it at first. My body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. I was gliding between shinning metal bars, across dark, cold stone. . . was flat against the floor, sliding along my stomach. . . It was dark, yet I could see every object shimmering around me in strange, vibrant colors. . . I turned my head. . . At first glance, the corridor was empty. . . but no. . . a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin dropping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark. . .

I stuck out my tongue. . . I tasted the man's sent on the air. . . He was alive but dozing. . . sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor. . . .

I longed to bite the man. . . but I must master the impulse. . . I had more important things to do. . .

But the man was stirring. . . a slivery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and I saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above me, saw a wand withdrawn from his belt. . . . I had no choice. . . . I reared high from the floor and struck once. . . .

. . . . Twice. . . .

. . . . Three times I plunged my fangs into his flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath my jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood. . . .

The man was yelling in pain. . . . then he fell silent. . . . He slumped to the floor. . . . Blood was everywhere. . . .

My head hurt terribly. . . . I was about to burst. . . .

"Andy! _Andy_!"

I opened my eyes. Every inch of my body was covered in sweat. My sheets were twisted around my limps like a straitjacket as I struggled to free myself. My forehead burned as if a white-hot iron had been pressed against it.

"_ANDY_!"

Hermione was standing over me, looking extremely frightened. More figures surrounded my bed as I clutched my head in both hands. I rolled with my hands over my ears, screaming again as a rush of new pain rippled through me.

"She's really ill," I heard someone say. Maybe it was Lavender, but I really didn't care at the moment. "Should we call someone?"

Through the pain I shot straight up in bed. Hermione tried to push me back down, saying I should lie back on the pillow.

"NO!" I shouted. There was no time to waste. "Ron's dad. . . . his dad. . . . HARRY! Oh god, Harry!"

I threw the covers off my body and pushed past Hermione and ran out the door, stumbling down the staircase only to climb back up the one that lead to the boys' dormitories. Hermione was yelling my name again, but I didn't stop. I had to get to Harry.

Maybe if I would have stopped to think about what was going on, I would have realized that everything would have turned out fine if I had just stayed in tucked under the covers in my bed and faked being sick. But it was like I didn't have a reasonable mind anymore. I had woken up, dreaming about a snake – no, this was not dreaming anymore. Mr. Weasley had really been hurt. Even if it hadn't been him, I knew I would have jumped up as I did then, making a beeline for the boy's staircase. As I passed the first year's room I collided with a dark figure. We both stumbled, grabbing onto one another for support. Hermione caught up with me as I grabbed whomever it was by the shoulders, my feet sliding underneath me.

"Andy! What the _hell_ is going on?" It was the first time I had heard her curse, but I didn't comprehend it at the moment.

"God, who – NEVILLE?" I shouted as the moonlight lit his red face, bright with fear.

"Harry – " he stopped, out of breath. "Harry's sick. Getting McGonagall." He pushed past me and ran into the common room.

"Andy!" Hermione shouted but I left her there, taking two steps at a time until I reached the door on the fifth landing that was wide open. I burst through, not caring that I was hardly dressed. My nightdress was soaked in a sheen of sweat, my hair plastered to my face.

Dark figures surrounded what I guessed was Harry's bed. I pushed past the tall figure I fleetingly recognized as Ron and ran to Harry's side. He didn't look any better than me. In one moment our eyes met and I knew he had seen the same thing I had. It was really happening.

Not for the first time I had opened my eyes on that train, I wondered if it – the entire Wizarding world – wasn't a dream. Even Hogwarts. Everything down to taste, touch, smell, and sight was so realistic that, as I stood over Harry's bed, I was scared out of my mind.

"Ron, give me his robes," I said quickly. Ron picked up Harry's robes off his trunk and I shoved them into Harry's hands, pulling on his arm until he was sitting upright.

"_Andy_?" Ron seemed to realize who exactly was in the boy's dormitory.

"Your dad. . . ." Harry was still in a bit of a shock. "He's been attacked. . . "

"What?" said Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione came yelling into the room. She rushed past Seamus and Dean who stood by dumbly, just watching. Did they know a man was dying as we spoke?

"What is going on, Hermione?" Ron shouted back.

"I don't know – Andy had a nightmare and the next thing – "

I cut her off. "We need to get to Dumbledore, _now_!" I yelled as no one moved.

"Ron, your dad – we need to find out where he is – he's bleeding like mad – I was – it was a huge snake," Harry said, his words getting clearer as the pain in his head was subsiding.

Not wanting to waste time, I pulled Harry to his feet and pushed past Ron, but he caught my arm and yanked me around.

"He was dreaming, Andy," Ron said, but was clearly uncertain. "he was. . . just. . . "

"No!" Harry yelled. "It wasn't a dream. . . I was there, I saw it. . . .I _did_ it. . . . ."

That's when I heard Neville's voice again, coming up the steps.

"Over here, Professor. . . ."

McGonagall was in her dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her nose. When she saw Hermione her eyes grew wide but when her eyes landed on Harry and me, I thought they were going to pop out of her head.

"Granger? Goodrich? This is the boys' – "

"We know, Professor," I interrupted her.

Harry had visibly relaxed when he saw her. _One of the Order_, I knew he was thinking.

"What is it, Potter?" She still eyed me curiously. I knew I had outdone myself.

"It's Ron's dad," Harry said. "He's been attacked and I saw it happen. It's serious."

"What do you mean you saw it happen?" Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows contracted.

"I don't know. . . . I was asleep and then. . . . I was there. . . ."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No!" Harry said, his voice rising. "There was a lot of blood, someone's got to find out where he is. . . ."

Professor McGonagall looked at him as though she was horrified at what she was seeing.

"He's not lying Professor," I said, gasping. "I tell you the truth, he's not."

She looked like she was going to ask another question but then turned towards the door so quickly I thought she was going to leave us.

"I believe you," She said curtly. "Get dressed. We're going to see the headmaster."


	15. Encounter With A Snake

I had blown everything.

I walked in the eerie darkness towards Dumbledore's office, my head reeling. As we passed corridor after corridor, I realized that I still had Harry's hand in my own from when I guided him in a death-grip towards the door. The funny thing was, I knew Harry was fully awake now. But he made no attempt to free his hand until we were in front of the giant stone eagle that led up to the headmaster's office.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Professor McGonagall said. The gargoyle sprang to life and revealed a stone staircase moving upward like a spiraling escalator. The wall closed behind us with a thud.

Neville, Dean, and Thomas had all stayed back behind in the dormitory. McGonagall had insisted Ron came, since it was his father. I was in no state to argue with and McGonagall seemed to notice that as she didn't say anything when I joined along uninvited. Hermione had left before Professor McGonagall could call her out again, probably to wake up Ginny.

When we reached the grand door that led to his office, I could hear voices behind it as if Dumbledore was entertaining dozens of people at two in the morning. But when McGonagall rapped three times on the door, the voices cut off at once. The door opened on its own accord and McGonagall led the three of us inside.

I suddenly felt watched as we entered the dark room. Dozens of portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses covered the walls exactly like they had in the movies, bumped up against each other frame to frame. I realized whom Dumbledore had been talking to until McGonagall had knocked. Though they all pretended to be sleeping, I saw a couple watch us as we walked deeper into the room. I felt oddly exposed and embarrassed as I felt dozens of eyes stare down at me in my sweaty nightgown that looked as if it had been splashed with water.

Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk. At his side, a magnificent red-and-gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing. Fawkes. On his desk were odd trinkets and instruments of sort, all silent, unlike the books had always said. Dumbledore himself was wearing a beautifully embroidered purple-and-gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating blue eyes fixed intently on Professor McGonagall.

"Good morning, Professor . . . and. . . _Ah_."

Dumbledore sighed as he took in Harry, like that explained everything he had been thinking.

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare," said McGonagall. "He says . . ."

"It wasn't a nightmare," Harry said quickly.

Professor McGonagall turned to frown at Harry, gesturing to Dumbledore. "Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it."

"I . . . well . . . I _was_ asleep. . . ." Harry said his tone grew more intense so quickly that I stopped looking around the room. I realized that Dumbledore was not looking directly at him, making sure to keep his eyes focused on everyone else; this was already making Harry's temper flare I realized as Harry shifted his weight.

"But it was no ordinary dream . . . it was real . . . I saw it happen. . . ." He took a deep breath. "Ron's dad – Mr. Weasley – has been attacked by a giant snake."

"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked, looking up at the ceiling nonchalantly.

"Well . . . I don't know," Harry said rather angrily. "Inside my head, I suppose –"

"You misunderstood me," Dumbledore said calmly, still not looking at Harry. "I mean, can you remember where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

Harry and I both gaped at Dumbledore. It was like he almost knew. . . .

"I was the snake," Harry said slowly. "I saw it happen from the snake's point of view. . . ."

It was silent for a moment as Dumbledore looked at Ron, who was looking at Harry in shock, his face as white as Peeves.

"Is Arthur seriously injured?"

"Yes!" Harry and I both said at the same time and Dumbledore snapped his blue eyes towards me. Ron looked in my direction, but maybe only at the sound of my voice, because he suddenly looked as ill as Harry had when he had gotten out of bed.

"Everand?" Dumbledore stood up so quickly that everyone jumped. Or maybe it was just Harry and me, for we were both on high wire. "And you too, Dilys!"

There was a rustle and I turned my head to see two figures in different portraits move to attention.

"You were listening?" said Dumbledore.

The Wizard, Everand, nodded. The witch said, "Naturally."

"The man has red hair and glasses," Dumbledore said. "Everand, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people."

The two nodded and disappeared behind the right frame of their painting. But unlike reappearing in the neighboring paintings, like the rest of the Hogwarts pictures, they melted into the black fabric surrounding the sides of each of their portraits.

"Everand and Dilys were two of Hogwarts's most celebrated Heads," Dumbledore explained. "They have many portraits hanging in important Wizarding institutions, and many on the walls of the Ministry."

"But Mr. Weasley could be anywhere!" Harry protested. I almost opened my mouth to tell them where, but stopped myself quickly. Telling myself to calm down, I stepped away from Harry. Despite the fact I knew Mr. Weasley was going to be fine, my heart was still felt like it was racing at 500 miles an hour.

"Sit down, all of you," Dumbledore said as he turned to tend to Fawkes, who had awoken to all the talking. "Professor McGonagall, please draw up a couple extra chairs?"

She drew her wand from a pocket in her dressing gown and waved it once. Four straight-backed wooden chairs appeared out of thin air and I sank into mine thankfully. My knees had started to shake.

Dumbledore stroked Fawkes's golden head and the bird snapped his head towards the headmaster immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," Dumbledore said so quietly that I hardly heard him, "a warning."

With a burst of fire the bird was gone and if I hadn't been slumped in my chair, I would have collapsed.

It was silent as Dumbledore played with the trinkets around his desk as we waited for word from either of the figures from the paintings. He tapped one with his wand and a large snake made of smoke coiled in the air. He tapped it again and it split into two before disappearing entirely into thin air.

Harry didn't look too good. In fact, I wouldn't have been able to tell if he was still breathing by the stone cold expression on his face. He didn't move, his eyes plastered to the floor next to his feet. Every once in a while they would flicker in Dumbledore's direction, who was always engrossed with another item upon his desk; this time it was a kettle. Then he would go back to being a statue, only his chest rising and falling slightly with every breath.

Ron was trying to get our attention without making noise. I didn't want to talk to him at all. What was I suppose to say? How could I explain anything without making an even bigger mess? The answer, I knew, to that was _no way_. I wrung my hands together in my lap, making sure to keep my eyes cast downwards. All too soon, and not quick enough, the wizard came back huffing into his portrait and sank into the fluffy-looking armchair that had been painted with him.

"Dumbledore!"

"What news?" Dumbledore said at once.

"I yelled until someone came running," the wizard said, mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs – they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check – you know, because there are no portraits down there in the corridor to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes late. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood. I ran along into Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left –"

"Good," Dumbledore said as Ron made a choking sound in his seat. At that moment the witch returned, panting, her silver hair bobbing with curls.

"Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore. . . . They carried him under my portrait. . . . He looks bad. . . . "

Ron appeared ready to pass out.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children."

"Of course. . . ." She left with a soft sound of a door closing.

"Dumbledore – what about Mum – Molly?" Ron asked, the color draining from his face.

"Fawkes will tend to her after he's finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching. But she may know by that excellent clock of hers. . . . "

That didn't seem to help Ron at all and I could picture the hand bearing his father name on his pointed to "mortal peril". But it was very late. . . . Mrs. Weasley was probably asleep. . . .

The door burst open again and McGonagall hurried in Ginny, Fred, and George. All of them looked disheveled and shocked. I instantly felt better as Ginny came forward in nothing other than a long T-shirt and shorts, as I had suddenly realized my attire wasn't exactly appropriate.

"Harry – what's going on?" Ginny looked frightened. "Professor McGonagall says you saw dad hurt –"

"He's been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He had been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix. I will be sending you back to Sirius's house, which is more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

"How're we going?" said Fred, visibly shaken. "Floo Powder?"

"No," said Dumbledore, "Floo Powder is not safe at the moment but you will be fine by Portkey." He pointed to an old kettle he had been tampering with earlier. Suddenly there was a bright flash of a flame in the middle of the room and a single golden-tipped scarlet feather drifted gently towards the floor.

"It's Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore said, catching the falling feather in one hand. "She knows you're out of your beds. . . . Minerva, go and head her off – tell her any story –"

McGonagall was gone again and I knew by _'she'_ they meant Umbridge. Dumbledore gestured towards Harry and the Weasleys. Harry, for the first time, seemed more than happy to move, jumping out of his chair. They surrounded his desk but Harry paused, casting a curious glance back at where I still sat, staring up at the scene playing out in front of me with wide eyes. Dumbledore seemed to read his mind.

"Andy will be fine," he said. "We need to get the rest of you out of here at the moment."

Harry's gaze lingered on me for a moment until he turned back to place a single finger against the black kettle.

"On the count of three. . ." Dumbledore's voice lowered and it wasn't until the blinding flash of white light was I left realizing they were gone.

Dumbledore stood still for a moment, looking exactly at the place where Harry's face had been and I knew what had happened. Dumbledore had finally looked at him . . . and he had seen Voldemort. With a flick of his wand, the three empty chairs around me dissolved and I was left alone with headmaster. He cleaned up the couple trinkets that were left on his desk and settled back into his throne-like chair. His ice blue eyes found mine immediately. If I wasn't in such a shock I would have fainted again. It was the first time in months since Dumbledore had actually looked at me; the first and only time had been when the Sorting Hat had put me in Gryffindor.

"Miss Goodrich, I believe you've had a most exciting night," Dumbledore said, his eyes glinting.

"Yes, sir," I croaked, unsure of what to say.

"I assure you, Mr. Weasley will make a full recovery," he said, continuing the conversation.

"Oh, I know," I said absent mindedly and abruptly felt my stomach drop as Dumbledore turned to look directly at my face again. It was silent for a moment until Dumbledore sighed and dropped his hands into his lap.

"Well, if you wish to wait here until Minerva comes back, you are welcomed, but I wonder if you'd want to get back to a warm bed, I daresay. Just make sure you aren't caught."

I didn't feel the least bit tired but nodded numbly and stood, turning for the door. As my hand touched the brass knob Dumbledore spoke again behind me and I stopped.

"That is, unless you wish to tell me something."

Abruptly, I turned on my heel to stare back into those bright eyes. He sat there waiting, expressionless, yet his face pouring out the look of understanding. Every part of me wanted to say something, to just shout it all out. Dumbledore would understand, he always did. He would soon even understand why a part of Harry had wanted to kill him the moment they made eye contact. His knowledge would lead to the destruction of Voldemort. Sure, he could probably take what I had to say.

"No, Professor."

Maybe a reason I didn't say anything was the fact I still thought of myself living in a dreamy state. It seems so silly. Even though it had been months since I had opened my eyes to my own bedroom, I still couldn't make myself believe this could all be true. It wasn't real, I knew that. I wasn't going to trouble Dumbledore with a bunch of nonsense I can't even explain to myself. Maybe it was the dozens of people who were still listening in on our conversation. Maybe I was just scared.

But that didn't change anything as I shut the door behind me, feeling as if Dumbledore's strong stare was following me down the hallways.

…

The winter break passed by slowly.

I was alone.

I mostly wandered the cold grounds. Ginny had invited me to spend Christmas with the rest of the Weasleys when I had mentioned that I was most likely to stay at Hogwarts for the break weeks before. But the offer didn't seem so promising now as I passed the Whomping Willow.

It wasn't like I was the only one left at Hogwarts. Many people had decided to stay, and I made new friends with a couple of fourth years. Neville had even taught me a bit or two about Herbology before he left to visit his Grandmother a couple days before Christmas that had actually been interesting. I spent most of my time in the library or out in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch, just staring and thinking.

My first Christmas I had spent alone in the fifteen years of my life was at the castle. But not utterly alone. When I awoke that morning I found a parcel at the foot of my bed; it was from Harry. It contained a bunch of silly, simple things: candy and a short letter about how he was coming back early and to not eat all the Treacle Tarts until he was there. Just the fact that it was signed from him made my face blush as I read it. The night that Mr. Weasley had been attacked had sparked something in him I couldn't place.

Ginny sent me something too. It was a scarlet scarf knitted by Mrs. Weasley herself with my initials at each end in gold stitching. The card with it had been short and with a small thank-you from her mother about saving her husband. So Ron must have said something. Great.

I wondered what Harry was doing frequently. Hermione had left the day after the attack. I had managed to stay away from her until she had left before classes that morning. The thing was, there were still two days left of the fall term and I was left to those two, long, days of classes to myself. I only managed to get lost once, I might add. But I had spent my time wandering the halls, looking for famous rooms. I had been trying to find Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which was _not_ where Rowling had described, I later found out. I tried to keep him out of my mind at the least while classes were still in session. I knew he was at least safe though, at his Godfather's, so I had no need to worry. But that didn't stop me from thinking about him. That was even more embarrassing when Snape called me out in the middle of class to either stop daydreaming or prepare for a detention the first night back from break. It wasn't until my sixteenth day alone that anything interesting occurred.

Not that I had been counting.

I had been walking back by myself after spending hours at the Quidditch field when I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I stopped immediately, just a couple meters from Hagrid's Hut. I had been tempted to speak with the man, since he knew me from the times he had caught me with Harry, Ron and Hermione out on the grounds. But, of course, I stayed away. I had begun to be more timid around people, my old self already beginning to take over. Slowly, I turned to look behind me but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging to myself mentally, I continued back to the castle. When I had reached the fifth floor I paused at one of the long corridors. I had the sense that I was being followed all throughout my trip back to the Gryffindor common room. Turning in a complete circle, I was starting to worry as I continued forward, looking over my shoulder as I walked. The sensation I was being watched increased and I began to walk faster and wasn't looking in front of me when I turned around a sharp corner.

That's when I ran straight into something solid and fell flat on my back. My head hit the stone floor with a sharp crack and I felt like I had been Stunned. Groaning, I pushed myself up on my elbows but froze as someone spoke.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

The remark had meant to be rude and my blood ran cold as I recognized the voice. I knew immediately I was in trouble.

Malfoy didn't make a move to help me up, his arms crossed over his chest. I got to my feet quickly, very aware of Crabbe and Goyle's leering forms at each of Malfoy's shoulders.

"What?" I said the word as harshly as I could.

Malfoy's grey eyes flashed.

"You're parents didn't teach you manners, Goodrich, did they?" he jeered. Crabbe and Goyle hooted with laughter.

"Did yours ever tell you to watch where you're going?" It wasn't the best. Even I knew it as my mouth formed the words.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed this time, his expression stony. I had never realized how short I was compared to him until now. And by no means was I 'vertically challenged'. Draco was like Ron, making the most average people feel as small as children. Crabbe and Goyle were towering too, but Malfoy, unlike them, was lean and muscular from Quidditch training. If I were to pick a fight with any of them, which I _really_ did not want to if I could avoid it, he would have been my last choice. Draco may have looked like he couldn't throw a good punch, which I had doubted he could, at least I would have been able to outrun Crabbe and Goyle. Not to mention outwitting them would be pretty simple too.

"You have a sharp tongue," Malfoy smiled. It was something that I never again wanted to see on his face. "Though I would be careful not to lose it." He laughed, licking his lips suggestively, clearly amused by my discomfort.

Fed up, I fixed my robes and, still glaring into those stone eyes, stepped forward to pass him.

If I still hadn't been staring, I wouldn't have caught the slightest jerk of his head. His face gave nothing away, other than the fact it seemed to be plastered in that sick smile. Suddenly, Crabbe, who had been relatively silent and still the entire time, slid sideways, cutting me off.

"What do you want?"

Malfoy was silent. I was really getting irritated now.

"Why are you even here? Doesn't you mommy miss her little snake?"

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow.

"My father's been called back work at the Ministry over Christmas break," he said and I didn't miss the gloating tone. "A real honor, which is why I have to stay in this place." He said it like Hogwarts was a curse to live in, the stuck up snob. "Apparently there's been a bit of a _snake_ problem there too."

I attempted to hide the knowing look that was slowly spreading over my face. Thankfully, Malfoy mistook it for shock.

"Last week Weasel's father was attacked by a giant serpent," he continued. "I take it as a sign that the old man is no longer worthy of his position. Do you know what he was doing before the animal found him? He was sleeping on the job, that –"

I will never know what Malfoy had been going to call Mr. Weasley because, at that moment, my hand, which had been inching towards the lining of my robes the more he had talked, drew my wand and pointed it at his chest.

"_Stupefy_!"

Malfoy flew backwards as if someone had punched him. Crabbe and Goyle, who still were standing close, were not saved from being struck by his flying limbs. The three Slytherins collapsed to the floor, fumbling for their own wands. Malfoy, in a heap of arms and legs, landed heavily on the stone floor with a smack. But I must not have cursed him hard enough for, only seconds after he had hit the ground, he began to stir. Or it could have been that the amount of force that he had gone down with had jolted him out of the trance. I was hoping it was the one that caused the most pain.

Truth be told, I used to love the character of Malfoy. Next to Harry and Fred, he had been on the top ten list of best characters, but the more I looked at him, the more I had begun to hate him. I had liked the man he had become in the sixth book, when he had been unwilling to kill Dumbledore. Underneath all his hate and stupidity, he wasn't all that bad of a guy.

I guess he hadn't gotten to that stage yet.

Crabbe and Goyle were blundering to their feet, heads whipping around. I was frozen, my wand still held out in front of me. Realizing what I had just done, I gasped and would have dropped my wand if my fingers hadn't been clenched around the handle. Malfoy was starting to sit up, struggling as the effects of the curse began to wear off. His head snapped up suddenly and our eyes met. The only thing that came to my mind was the clichéd expression 'if looks could kill'. Well, if that had been true, my heart would have stopped then and there. Malfoy's face reflected pure anger, watching me as I held my wand foolishly in front of me.

It only took that one look to make me return to my senses. Though I wish I could say I did something brave, something worthy of a Gryffindor. I was beginning to wonder why the Sorting Hat had decided to put me in the House.

I ran.


	16. A Daring Escape

I took off at a sprint, my shoes sliding on the slick floor as I struggled to find friction. The moment Malfoy had went down, I had rattled my brain for possibilities that would get me out of this mess. But it had all happened so quickly that my brain only managed to get across one word. _Run_.

The corridor we were in was too small and I knew I would be easily cornered if I decided to stay and fight. And being noticed by any teachers and staff who had decided to stay over the break would be at high risk too. Sure, it would be pretty easy to blame the entire situation on the three Slytherins if we got caught. By anyone other than Umbridge or Snape, that is. And Flitch. He would just hand us over to Umbridge and then I'd probably be banned from using my wand ever again. The sad thing was, I really didn't know where I was going. At the moment, all I had really wanted to do was to put more space in between Malfoy and me.

I could hear the pairs of heavy footsteps before I even made it down the corridor. I didn't turn to look over my shoulder though, knowing that would have only slowed me down. Malfoy was trying to stop me, sending jinxes that came a bit too close to my head, cracking in a burst of color against the stone walls. I managed to keep enough distance between us but, as everyone knows, good things run out soon. I was starting to slow down as I sprinted up a staircase tucked into the back of the castle, taking multiple at a time. I knew enough magic to stand and fight, but if I could, I wanted to escape without causing myself any more trouble than I already had with this boy. But as Malfoy's footsteps came closer and his spells skimmed past me so close I could feel the air ripple, I had no choice but to turn around.

"_Rictusempra!_" Malfoy easily deflected the jinx that shot out of my wand in a bright, silver light. He shot a Stinging Hex in my direction and I was forced to drop to the floor, scrambling around a corner. I stood quickly, sprinting forward down another narrow hallway. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder, I almost didn't have time to slow to down when I turned back around.

To a dead end.

I cursed, sliding to a stop. But I wasn't going to give up; I wasn't going to be trapped. There was a door to the left and, with a burst of speed, I threw my shoulder into it, expecting to feel it swing open. But of course it didn't with the luck I was having. A sharp pain spread through my right shoulder instantly and I turned on my heel, wand brandished at arm's length as Malfoy finally caught up with me. The corridor had been empty expect for the one door and a large tapestry at the farthest wall displaying the Lady of Shallot. It was beautiful, the tiny webs of fabric creating the stunning outline of towering mountains. The Lady herself was perched upon the side of a small boat, her long dress and hair pooling into the water around her. Her face though was drawn and thin, as if she were troubled. But I had a feeling she wasn't in as much trouble as I was.

Malfoy smiled again, his fair hair hanging ruffled and hanging down in thin strands around his face. The other two idiots came blundering over moments later, puffing like lung cancer patients. I backed up like a caged animal as Malfoy stepped forward, glancing desperately over my shoulder as if a new door would just materialize behind me. It wasn't like I was asking for anything extravagant. I was in Hogwarts, for goodness sakes. But magic does have its limitations.

"I would work on your Stunning, Goodrich," he sneered, keeping his wand pointed at my face.

"I could say your aim could use some practice too." My tongue was forming words faster than my brain could comprehend them. What was I doing? I needed to stop. Insulting Malfoy was just as safe as trying to get past Fluffy unprepared; it was fifty-fifty chance. If I was to continue, there was no way I was getting out unscathed.

Malfoy growled, a deep, menacing sound matching the visage upon his face. I didn't wait for him to advance any further.

"Expelliarmus!"

Malfoy's wand jumped from his fingers, soaring through the air behind him. It rolled to a stop in front of Goyle, who started at it unintelligently. Malfoy froze, his gaze not wavering from my outstretched wand. Despite the nervous wreck I was inside, I let out a short laugh.

"You were saying?" I jeered despite the fact I was getting the feeling we were all going to see what I had for lunch pretty soon.

Malfoy was trying to still act cocky, but his eyes held the surprise and fear he couldn't dare show upon his face. I took a brave step forward, now only feet away.

"What are you going to do, hex me?" I had to give him some credit. He didn't fail in hiding any of his rude personality.

Somehow I managed a smile. "I've been thinking about it, actually."

Crabbe and Goyle seemed to suddenly realize their 'king' was in trouble. But as they stepped forward, my worst fear came true. I was cornered and my one, slim chance of escaping was gone out the window as the three of them closed in. Goyle tossed Malfoy his wand and I watched it arch gracefully through the air and into his hand where he flourished his wrist before turning to me.

"_You_ were saying?" Malfoy was outright mocking me. I was retreating before my brain made the connection, forced to stop in front of the tapestry. I took a chance and glanced around fruitlessly. There was no way out. If I wanted to escape now, the only way was _through_ them.

One of the daunting forms that was Crabbe moved sharply and my eyes were automatically drawn to the spot. Unintentionally, my wand dropped a few inches. Malfoy took advantage of the distraction, flicking his wand before I had a chance to react. My feet were suddenly no longer attached to the floor and I flew backwards, wand tumbling out of my grip as I fought to catch myself. The tapestry seemed to jump at me and I lunged for the fabric, my fingers hopelessly brushing across the smooth lake. The Lady watched me as I fell backwards into the wall, her somber face unchanging. I braced myself to hit the stone wall, throwing my hands behind me. Instead, I cried out when the sensation never came and I continued to fall, the tapestry flowing around me like water. I landed hard, feeling my left wrist snap under the force. The tapestry loosened around my shoulders, sliding back into place and I was left alone staring at the long piece of dark fabric visible in the small archway. A secret passage. But I didn't waste any time sitting there. Jumping to my feet, I broke into a run again as the tapestry whipped back to reveal a just as surprised Malfoy. My wrist was throbbing. The hallway was narrow, the low ceiling closing me in.

Malfoy was speaking, his voice clipped. I wasn't paying attention, moving as fast as I could. Weaponless, I knew there was no way I could now get past him. I turned a small corner, putting in a new burst of speed. Suddenly my feet were digging into the floor, my shoes squealing.

I was left looking out three large glass windows that viewed the frozen lake hundreds of feet below.

Of course he was behind me. But it was only him, even though I doubted it was only because the other two couldn't fit through the hallway without getting stuck, that's how tight of a fit it was. There was barely enough room for Malfoy to stand up straight, not that I was complaining for him.

"Not so rude now?" Malfoy smiled immorally, waving my wand in his left hand, his own rising to point at my neck.

I could have been Petrified. My limbs were ice.

"Wipe that look off your face, Goodrich," Malfoy scowled at me, but he didn't lower his wand, "I'm not going to curse you."

_What_? My face must have shown my confusion because he laughed, throwing his head back.

"Umbridge will surely have something to say when I bring you to her."

That was almost worse. No. It _was_ worse. I wanted to burst in his face, ordering him to just hex me and get it over with, but then he would know that going to see that woman was torture. But Malfoy never got the chance to step forward. It was as if someone had suddenly hit him on top of his head with a hammer. His eyes rolled back in his head, his body crumpling to the floor.

I looked up to see Harry standing in the passage, his wand still pointed to where the Slytherin had been.

…

"How did you - ?"

We were back in the common room and I had my knees pulled up against my chest. Harry was staring at the fire, not wanting to meet my gaze. The room was empty, except for an occasional student. At each sound of the portrait opening I would jump. But the moment I had sunk into the warm, cozy armchair before the fire, I had known I was safe.

"I didn't at first," Harry said truthfully. After he had Stunned Malfoy, (properly, I might add) I had literally jumped on him. We had broken apart, blushing, and I had grabbed my wand that had rolled out of Malfoy's grasp before running out through the tapestry. I had nearly tripped over the fallen log that was Crabbe. Goyle was a few feet away, sprawled headfirst into the floor.

"I had just gotten back," he continued. "I had been taking the long way to Gryffindor tower when I just happened to pass the corridor. Crabbe and Goyle aren't exactly the best at not looking suspicious. I jinxed them when they pulled their wands on me and pulled back the tapestry they had been guarding to hear Malfoy's voice. So, naturally, I went to investigate."

"Why?"

"Why? I – er – what if you had seen, or heard – someone cornered – " He tried to answer my question but couldn't seem to find the right words, clearly confused.

"No, " I interrupted him and he looked thankful, "I mean, why did you leave? In the letter you had said you were planning to also."

Harry cast a sad look at the fire before sighing, running a hand through his hair. I couldn't help but watch as it came to rest on the back of his neck.

"It just . . . was too awkward there. . . . " he trailed off in thought. "And we all felt bad about leaving you here," he finished with a bit of an apologetic smile. I grinned back.

"That's great, everyone feels sorry for poor, alone Andy," I laughed, wringing my hands together from where they sat on the tops of my knees. I gasped as a sharp pain shot through my wrist, my entire left arm going numb. I blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, desperate to not let Harry witness me cry.

"What's wrong?" Harry was suddenly standing in front of me, his green eyes full of worry.

"It's my wrist," I wrapped my right hand around it, grimacing as the pain continued to pulse. I had forgotten about it until now. Or my mind had just been overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the past five minutes_. Yeah, probably overwhelmed_, I thought as I stared up at Harry.

Just as quickly as he stood, Harry's own hand was wrapped around my wrist, bringing it up to his face. My breath caught, my wrist pulsing uncomfortably but soothed against his cool skin. His fingers trailed over the swelling joint and I gasped between my teeth. His head shot up.

"I think you broke it."

"Really?" I couldn't hold back my sarcasm. It was such a stupid thing to say, even for Harry Potter. No, I was just pretending to gasp in physical pain.

"How'd you manage to do this?" Harry said, ignoring my sarcasm.

"The tapestry," I said. His hands were still cupping my wrist and he knelt to the ground so that we were at eye level. "I didn't know that there was something behind it when Malfoy tripped me. I put my hands out to catch myself and – " I winced, remembering the first stab of pain.

"He tripped you?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" I rolled my eyes. "It's fine, he was only going to hand me in to Umbridge, though I was wishing that he would just change his mind and jinx me."

"I would too." Harry frowned at the mentioning of the awful woman. He rolled my wrist over in his palm gently, stopping as I gasped again.

"I can fix this, you know," he pulled out his wand as he spoke, bringing the tip to rest lightly over the broken bone. When my eyebrows shot up skeptically he laughed a true, deep laugh. "No, really."

"You're not going to make all my bones disappear, are you?" I said.

But that was the wrong thing to say. Exactly the wrong thing to say.

"No," Harry wasn't even looking at me anymore. "You're right, we'd better take you to the Hospital Wing."

He was out of the common room before I had the chance to stand up. I had to run to catch up with him, my wrist cradled to my chest.

"Harry!" I shouted after him, stumbling out of the portrait hole. "Harry! Wait for a moment! "

He slowed down and, to my horror, I knew it was reluctantly. His eyes that had once been so bright and alive were now dark. He glanced between my face and my wrist, his face unreadable. But I knew exactly what he was thinking. I couldn't say anything; there was nothing I could. I waited for Harry to speak. He started walking again and I followed him, making sure to stay slightly behind so he couldn't see my face.

"I've also been wanting to ask you," Harry said slowly after a moment's pause. At the words I felt a sudden dread. "I've been thinking about . . . about that night. . . . "

I didn't say anything, though I knew what night he was talking about. I had been thinking also – I had had so much time to anyway – and I didn't really want to talk about it. But I also knew I couldn't avoid it. How could I bring myself to tell him who won, knowing that it could mess up the future? I felt like Michael J. Fox in his portrayal of Marty in _Back to the Future_, trying to make this right, and mess up that, just to make everything normal. It was so damn hard.

I had wondered about how I had seen Harry's dream too. Like Harry, I had been the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley. The thought unnerved me, because Harry had been pretty much possessed by Voldemort at the moment. . . . What did that make me?

"Yes?" I said so quietly I barely heard myself.

"Er – how – what did Dumbledore say?" Harry veered at the last moment. I almost stopped, caught so off guard that I forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"Oh – um – he told me just to go back to bed and . . . that Mr. Weasley – how is he?" I changed the topic quickly. What was he doing?

"He's getting better," Harry said with a grim smile. "It was just . . . seeing him there . . . I felt so . . . guilty. . . . "

Harry seemed to realize what he was doing, his lips pulling into a thin line.

"I actually know the feeling," I said, desperate to keep the conversation going. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. It wasn't confusion, but it wasn't anger either. "They just didn't seem to understand you, right?"

". . . Right. . . . " Harry said so slowly I was afraid I had ruined it again. We were so close to the Hospital Wing now I could hear Madam Pomfrey clinking medicine jars as she bustled around the room.

She fixed my wrist in two seconds. Literally. Madam Pomfrey just took one look at me, at my wrist, waved her wand and the pain was gone. I had tested my healed joint with gusto, only to falter when she asked me how I had managed to break it. I told her I had tripped going up the stairs when they had abruptly moved. Well, it was half true. I had fallen.

We were almost halfway back to the common room before I got the guts to speak up again. Harry had been terribly silent, only letting me stare at the back of his head as we walked up a large staircase to the seventh floor.

"What did everyone have to say to your leaving early? It is Christmas break and everything," I asked.

"Er. . . .Well, they weren't exactly happy about it, but I convinced them in the end," he said after a moment's hesitation. I almost sighed, just happy he was talking to me again. But right before we reached the Fat Lady, who was combing her hair in a large handheld mirror, I stopped him. Her beady eyes were watching us in the reflection though she pretended to not see us.

"Harry," I made the brave decision to grab his arm. Harry stopped short, turning to face me. I hesitated for a moment, forgetting what I was going to say as he stared at me with his amazing eyes. "I am truly sorry if I said something to offend you. And thank you for fixing my wrist."

The coldness that had been separating us seemed to melt; the awkwardness that had been tangible in the air slipped away. Harry smiled again, something I knew I was never going to get used to. But I didn't mind it at all.

"I did nothing to help fix your wrist," he pointed out, stopping to tell the Fat Lady the password. She regarded us carefully as she swung the side of her painting open, her eyes boring into the back of my head until she disappeared. "That was Madam Pomfrey. Now, you should be thanking me for saving you from Umbridge."

"Well," I said, dipping into a taunting curtsey, "I shall thank thee, Harry Potter, for saving me from that toad."

Harry's entire face lit up as I insulted our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"It was my pleasure," Harry's smile was starting to dazzle me. I needed to sit down before I found myself on the floor.

The common room was empty so Harry and I spent the rest of the day seated in front of the fire. He had brought back some of Mrs. Weasley's best Christmas treats and I couldn't stop myself from trying everything. When Harry asked, I couldn't tell him what was my favorite; everything was so delicious. We had made it about half way through the box of sweets when Harry was telling me about a joke that one of the Weasley twins had whispered to him over the dinner table a few nights ago that had ended in Ron covered in firewhiskey. I wasn't really paying attention, my eyes coming to rest over his face. Harry had seemed to forget what had happened before, though I knew he hadn't. The way he acted now was genuine, a Harry I hadn't seen before. But somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was still thinking about what I had said earlier. More importantly, what Hermione had told him. How she expected that I was a spy. It had been the craziest, stupidest bthing I had ever heard in my life. But really, how where they supposed to know? I guess a spy was the closest thing that could describe everything I had said and done up to now, all the strange and absurd things that I knew. That I wasn't supposed to know.

Harry had stopped talking and was staring at me. It was another few moments before I realized that we were both staring at each other, Harry from the armchair directly three feet across from me. I felt the blood rush up to my face before I could say anything, my whole body turning an unflattering shade of pink.

"S – sorry," I choked out, my eyes immediately dropping to the floor. Harry was still staring at me. I could feel his gaze on the top of my head. It was silent for a moment until I stood up. At my movement, Harry rose as well. That's when I noticed how close he was to me. . . his face was just a few inches above mine. . . .

"I think I'll go to bed," I said, but I didn't move. Harry didn't say anything either, only nodding as if he were suddenly mute.

"Thanks again," I said, unsure about how long I should continue talking.

"No problem," Harry mumbled. I could feel his breath ghost over my nose.

_Just do it_, my mind kept screaming. His face was so close. . . . All I had to do was lean forward a few inches. . . . He seemed to be waiting for it. . . . Just do it, Andy. . . .Andy, just do it. . . .

"Night," I gasped and turned away. I didn't look back as I walked towards the stairs, fighting to keep my whole body from shaking as I left him standing alone in front of the crackling fire. I slammed the door to my dormitory shut behind me, not caring that the wood shook._ No_! This couldn't be happening. I tore off my robes and threw them to the floor at the foot of my bed. The room I had used to share with four other girls was completely empty, as Lavender and Pavarti had been planning to spend their break at home. Kicking off my shoes, I slumped into bed fully clothed.

I wasn't supposed to be doing this. He was supposed to continue falling for Cho. She still had to yell at him in Hogsmeade when he says he has to meet Hermione on Valentine's Day. The day that she takes it the wrong way and eventually ruins their relationship in 'that way' forever. . . . _This_ was _not_ supposed to be happening.

Harry was supposed to be with the Weasleys. With his Godfather. I wasn't even supposed to be here. Why was I even here? I could never answer that question.

This was tormenting me. I had wanted so much just to reach out and . . . but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. Once Harry would realize Cho's still mourning for Cedric, he'd slowly move on to Ginny. Nowhere in the picture did an Andy Goodrich come up.

I had realized why I was here. Kind of, at the least. I had to keep Harry on track, to prevent him from changing the future for the worst. But I was already doing that by myself. But maybe it wasn't for the worst. Maybe his love life didn't affect the way the Final War turned out. Nothing about it was in the books anyway. How could it, really?

I rolled over in defeat, wondering what I would have to say to him the next morning. Maybe I could just go with it. I had dreamed of this for years, of course. What Harry Potter fanatic hadn't? It didn't seem too wrong, though my logical mind was yelling at me to stay away. Of course, my heart was beating a frantic _YES_, just to make me more frazzled. I told myself I'd see how it played out. If Harry backed off, I would too. But then there was the possibility that he wouldn't . . .

I laughed at myself aloud in the darkness. That would never happen. He was Harry Potter. I was just some confused girl who had a knack for getting into trouble; not a good mix. But I had to admit, I didn't fall asleep until the moon was high in the sky, hours after we had said goodnight.


	17. Fire and Ice

"What have you been doing this whole time?"

We were in the common room the next morning. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and was already yawning when Harry came down two hours later. The sun hadn't even been peeking over the horizon when I dressed for the day, moving as if I was in a daze. Though, on the plus side, I had been able to finish the homework Snape had been so kind to assign us over the break. I would have been lying if I had said I hadn't been waiting anxiously for him to come down. My heart had gone berserk at any sight of movement or sound that came from the direction of the boy's staircase. There were a couple false alarms, but I was still as excited as ever when it was finally Harry who stepped out.

"What?" I snickered. "Are you bored already?"

"No," Harry said quickly, sitting down on the couch next to me. My heart skipped and I attempted to hide my surprise by setting my Potions book aside. Harry's eyes flew open, making him look even more crazed looking with his normally distressed hair.

"Oh no, I totally forgot about that," he muttered, but the look of worry disappeared from his face instantly. "Aw, well, I'll finish it later."

"That's why you got a 'Dreadful' on your last assignment," I shot him a disapproving look.

"Well, I had detention with McGonagall the night I was supposed to work on it!" Harry tried to defend himself, but I knew he could already tell that I was going to win.

"That you had because you forgot her essay was due," I said.

"Shut up," Harry mumbled and I giggled. His long face made me laugh even harder and Harry's lips seemed to involuntarily curl into a smile.

"How long have you been down here?"

"Not very long." It was only natural to fabricate that one. No way was I going to tell him, or anybody, exactly how long I had been waiting.

"Well, I don't know about you," Harry stood, "but I am starving."

I was starving too, the butterflies in my stomach having nothing to settle in as we made our way to the Great Hall. Harry was just as he had been, even resuming telling me the ending of the joke that he had been mentioning before . . . But I did notice that he didn't shy away from me if I stepped closer. In fact, I could have sworn he was purposefully walking close enough to make me feel lightheaded.

"Malfoy's been glaring at the back of your head since we sat down," I said quietly over my plate of toast. Harry shrugged and didn't even turn, only his shoulders tensing a bit like he could feel Malfoy's gaze.

"The git deserved it," he said and smiled crookedly in my direction, making me lose my entire train of thought so I was forced to have suddenly found a huge interest in the color of my jam while I recovered myself.

"So . . ." Harry drawled the word out so it took him one whole breath, "what did you have planned for today; boredom in the library or the common room?"

"Very funny," I said with a scowl. "Maybe you should have stayed with the Weasley's if all you're gonna do is complain."

I had said it lightly, laughing as I formed the words, and Harry had known that. But I saw his expression darken instantly. He dropped his fork and stared at the table, his hands on either side of his plate.

"I'm sorry," I reached for his hand instinctively and before I knew what I was doing, I could feel his warm skin underneath my fingertips. It was like my arm had a mind of its own. Back in New York I would have never done that. Truthfully, back in New York I wouldn't have done most of the things I had acted on in the past month. Drawing in a quick breath, I flung my arm back, barely composing my face in time as Harry's eyes flashed to stare at the place where I had brushed the back of his palm.

"No, it's fine," Harry said roughly and I could only help but wonder what he must have been thinking. There had been word already about Mr. Weasley already from Hermione, Harry had informed me on the way down, but I knew it was still bothering him immensely.

"Really," Harry sighed and gave me an unconvincing smile when I didn't answer.

"No, it's not," I said forcefully. Harry looked a little taken back. "It's not your fault, Harry, so you can stop being guilty about it. I'm sure St. Mungo's will cure three snake bites easily."

Harry's expression lightened for a moment. Sadly, it was only for that one second.

"Hang on," Harry said slowly. "I never told anyone it was three bites . . . not even Dumbledore. . . ."

I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth.

"I – " My mind was whirling for a lie even before Harry opened his mouth again.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

"It's – " I started, but he cut me off again. What he didn't know was that it was to my advantage, for I really had nothing to say.

"And about that night. You were there. You knew before the others." His eyes were hard, impassive. The way he looked at me wasn't any better either.

"Harry, I –"

"Dumbledore _couldn't_ have told you that. You just barged into the Boy's Dormitory. Ron told me a couple days ago."

My fork fell, forgotten, from my fingers. Both of us didn't even glance down as it clanged loudly against my plate, drawing the attention of half the Hall. Harry wasn't going to back down this time. He wasn't even going to try to change the subject.

"Mr. Potter, may I have a word?"

We both looked up at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice. She was dressed in a long black robe that had a purple tint, glittering like tiny gemstones were embedded in the fabric as she walked in front of the windows. Her pointed hat rested on her ears with her hair pulled back into a tight bun underneath the rim. Her glasses were at the very tip of her nose as she looked down at us, her face an expression of polite questioning. I had never been more happy to see the Head of Gryffindor in my life.

"Yes, Professor," Harry bit at the words like he was angry. He stood slowly with a long glare in my direction that McGonagall did not miss. She shot me a curious glance before following Harry down the never-ending wooden table and past the double doors.

I let out the air I had been holding in my lungs. Though I had been racking my mind, I couldn't conjure a single acceptable reason that could back me up. I had just gotten lucky, and I knew it. Maybe I could just come out with it all? It would make my life a whole lot easier. For a few moments, that is. We were alone. It would be easier than trying to explain in front of all of them. But try telling anyone you're pretty much from the future and know everything about their lives and tell me what you're labeled.

Harry returned about a minute later but, as he was walking down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, I turned my head, desperate to not meet his gaze. My eyes then landed for the worst upon the Slytherin table and Malfoy, who was eyeing Harry with daggers as he sat back down. Malfoy's eyes slipped over Harry's shoulder straight at me. He paused before a wide smile spread across his face. I was spared as Harry sat down, covering the git from view. Shivering involuntarily, I tried to get the picture out of my mind.

"Are you cold?" Harry was watching me. I caught the edge in his voice and noted that the question was not asked out of being polite. I was staring fixedly at my toast, poking at the bread aimlessly, my appetite gone.

"No," I said and we fell into an awkward silence. It wasn't until I had followed Malfoy's back out of the Great Hall did I speak again.

"What did Professor McGonagall want with you?"

I half expected Harry to say a one syllable word that was impossible to help keep a conversation going. Heck, I was half expecting him to say nothing at all.

"Oh, it was just about my broom," Harry said and when I looked at him with a blank expression he sighed deeply. "The one that I got suspended from forever flying on."

"I know about your broom," I retaliated quickly and the air around us became a bit denser. Pausing for a moment, I forced myself to calm down. "What would McGonagall want to talk to you about that for was what I meant?"

"Umbridge wanted me to know it has been moved to the Dungeons," he suddenly gave a slight smile. "McGonagall wasn't all too happy about being her messaging owl, though."

"Why would she want to tell you that?" I put down my fork. There was no way I was going to finish my breakfast anyway.

"To rub it in my face, I reckon. I don't know what her problem is, but there's something about that woman that just wants to ruin me."

"You're not far from it," I muttered, pushing my plate to the side so I could fold my arms in front of me. "But really? She's a bit stupid. Who can issue a life long ban?"

Harry had never really spoken about the subject for I knew it always made him bitter. Who couldn't really blame him though? I cursed myself for bringing it up unnecessarily.

"Apparently she can," Harry grumbled, letting his face fall into the hand that was braced on the table.

"I mean, is there such thing as a life ban from a sport like that? Just for a fight? I highly doubt that for I've seen worse and the players walk away with just a warning."

"How can you doubt that?" Harry's head shot up.

"Because Umbridge said it," I took the chance to smile gently.

"I'd give anything for my Firebolt again," Harry turned back to his hand, running his fingers through his hair.

"I have a feeling you'll get it back."

"Yeah, hopefully before I die," Harry said in a dark humor.

"Which is not now, so _please_ stop moaning 'bout it," I said more harshly than I had intended to and his eyes flashed again. I had been mostly mad at myself for bringing up Quidditch again. Because it had done me _so_ much the first time with Hermione.

He openly stared at me for a moment and I had to fight not to turn away. His eyes were so intense that it was almost uncomfortable, but finally Harry's gaze broke away towards the staff table.

"Have you started Trelawney's assignments yet?"

It was the only thing I could think to say. Stupid, I know, and even Harry's face seemed to confirm this as he turned back towards me. But I was never someone who enjoyed silences. I was willing to make myself look like a fool to get him to talk. He was angry with me, it was practically written all over his face. This time it was almost disbelief like I was asking such a question, that all I could think to bring up was school. Out of all the other subjects in the world, I had to go for the boring one.

"No," he admitted after a slight hesitation.

"Would you like help?" It was my pathetic attempt at an apology without coming straight out with the words 'I'm sorry'. I could have sworn he held back a small laugh.

"Sure," he stood and I followed silently with my head down. The next hours passed slowly, but a while after we had gotten back to the common room, both of us had calmed down a bit. I didn't know what I'd say if he brought it up again. I guess I could just blame everything on Dumbledore. Like Harry would question his judgment twice.

It was only a day until students would be returning back for the spring term when I found myself back in the Great Hall, staring at my soup in silence. Suddenly Harry slammed his hand down on the table, causing everyone in a five-foot radius to jump. I dropped my spoon and it landed with a wet slop in the middle of my bowl. I was cautious when I turned to him.

"Look," Harry sighed. He quickly glared at the whispering people behind us, but when he turned around his expression softened. "Let's just start over. These past few days, I don't know what has gotten into me."

I was silent as I waited for him to finish his thought. Over the time that we had alone together, I had noticed how distracted Harry had seemed. He appeared mentally torn.

And I knew it was all my fault.

"Are you finished?" Harry finally said, motioning to the full plate of food I had in front of me. He hadn't even touched his dinner, his fork still in the same place since we had sat down.

"Yeah," I tried to smile. Not a huge, dazzling smile, but something soft that could make me look at least a little more approachable. On the inside all I wanted to do was run away. Secretly, I was nowhere near full; I had had barely any appetite for two full days. But Harry's eager face made me forget about everything and I followed his lead out the Great Hall and into the foyer.

"Have you ever been to the lake yet?" Harry asked suddenly.

"No." I was a bit hesitant to answer because the way he had spoken. It was similar to the way he would talk before he told Hermione he had a _great_ plan to get past Peeves that she would never approve of.

"Well, then, let's go," he started for the doors that lead out into the courtyard that were beside the Great Hall. I paused, having to run up a small flight of stairs to meet him at the door.

"Harry, it's going to get dark soon," I said skeptically, leaning slightly against the door he was starting to open to stop him.

"Then let's not get caught, got it?" He slipped between the large double doors. With a quick glance over my shoulder I walked outside, leaving the door open a slight crack behind me.

"But the lake's frozen!" I laughed as the cold wind whirled around us, lifting drifts of snow and ice into the air.

"Fine, no lake." Harry was silent while he thought, his eyes scanning over the frosted courtyard.

"Harry, it's freezing." I was already starting to shiver and we were only standing on the front steps.

"Wait right here," Harry didn't even pause before he turned around and walking back into the heated school, shutting the door behind him.

"Harry!" I yelled, pounding my fists on the door. I couldn't believe he had just walked away, leaving me out in the cold. "You open this door right now, Potter!" I slammed my hand against one of the grand, oak double doors that enclosed everyone from the harsh weather outside that Harry had just left me standing alone in. There was no way I was going to get the doors open again; it was possible for me to push them open from the inside, but there were only two rings the width of my head hanging from the middle of each one from the side I was stuck on. I was about to pull out my wand when the door creaked, pushing me backwards down a slick step.

"Calm down! Someone's going to hear us," Harry's voice was hushed as he closed the door behind him, the blast of warm air dissolving into the cold. We still had a few hours before all students had to be in their dormitories, but the time restrictions of the grounds were a bit different.

"You left me out here!" Despite what Harry said, I wasn't trying to be quiet. Not even when he pushed my winter coat and the scarf Ginny had sent me a few days earlier in my direction.

"What?" Harry slipped his arms into his own fluffy jacket over his robes. "I just slipped in to summon our . . ." Harry didn't even bother finishing his sentence.

I wasn't going to yell at him – that was only going to make everything worse. Mumbling under my breath something about boys and their stupidity, I slipped my arms into my coat before wrapping the scarf tightly around my neck.

"We don't have to stay out long," Harry's voice was gentle. He was trying to cover his mistake without having to apologize to me. Again. The amount of times we had both said 'I'm sorry' in some form or fashion was starting to irritate even me. "I just needed some . . . fresh air."

"Ok," I smiled, letting him know that I wasn't frustrated with him. "But, for the record, if you ever want a girl to go on a date with you, never – _never_ – leave her locked outside, by _herself_, in _winter_. Even when you are just disappearing for a few moments." I added as Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"So what does that make this?" It was the most confident I'd ever seen him act in over the five months I had known him. The funny thing was, it had never felt like only months. And it wasn't just because of my knowledge of the books. It was something else, something that I had never felt before or knew how to even describe.

I didn't answer, letting the question hang in the air as we stepped onto the bridge that connected the castle to the rest of the grounds. There was no one else wandering around as we made our way in the direction of Hagrid's hut. Not that I was expecting to see anyone. Any person that was in their right mind wouldn't think twice about setting foot outside, at dusk, in the smack dab of an English winter.

The movie set was almost exact; everything from the boathouse to the soft mountains that surrounded the old castle was amazingly accurate. There were rocks that resembled Stonehenge that circled the exit of the bridge as it stopped just over the fifty-foot drop. And it was more beautiful than what I had ever expected. Snow littered the ground, blanketing everything in a white glistening layer. The frozen wasteland that had been the pumpkin patch was in front of Hagrid's house; the one that had once held Buckbeak before his trial during Harry's third year. Though despite the snow, it wasn't very cold as it had been up in the courtyard. The wind had died down and the snowfall that had been constant since before the break had ceased. But that didn't mean it wasn't still cold enough to make my blood go cold. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat, hunching my shoulders and pulling the scarf up so that it covered my chin.

"You mentioned before that you moved to England because of your father's profession. What does he do?" Harry asked, his glasses fogging around the edges in the wet air. I had mentioned it before, but that had been during the first week after I had found myself on the Hogwarts Express. I hesitated, too busy thinking how he had managed to remember that, after all this time.

"Umm. . . . An Auror," I said the sentence almost like a question. It was the only Wizarding occupation I could think of at the moment.

"Really?" Harry's head snapped around to look at me with surprise, eyes wide with excitement. "Does he like it? I've always wanted to train to be one, but you know, with Snape's new rule and all about N.E.W.T. classes, I don't think that option's up for me anymore."

"Why not?" I asked the question in a way that was almost too revealing. Like I knew he had what it took to become one. I laughed mentally at the irony.

"It's not like Snape expects me to get an 'Outstanding' on his part of the O.W.L.S. He's only taking anyone who 'Exceeds Expectations'. Andy, I can barely write an essay that doesn't fail expectations!"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly give up on anything just quite yet." I made sure this time it sounded like advice, not like I was Professor Trelawney's long-lost, just as crazy daughter. Harry wasn't completely wrong, about being a bit challenged at Potions. Especially the part about his essays.

"Maybe, but I don't like all the thing's they're expecting us to know about our futures right now. The test McGonagall was talking about last week is supposed to figure out what traits you have that could help you excel at a certain job, did you know that? It's not like I'm going to exactly have an open future with Voldemort trying to kill me with everyday. He might as well just end it now so I don't have to face Snape next year. You know he won't take me even if I do pass."

"Harry!"

Harry stopped in his tracks even though he had been gazing the other direction. I guess I must have said it harsher than I had intended to because Harry looked at me like I had two heads. But I didn't really care at the moment.

"How can you talk like that? Don't you ever hope for something other than being someone's prey for the rest of your life?"

"_Someone's prey_?" Harry's voice was starting to rise too. "Of course I do! And you don't understand anything of what I'm going through!"

"_I_ don't understand?" My temper flared dangerously. How could he say that? I understood better than anyone he knew, probably even more than himself. I couldn't even explain in words exactly what I was thinking at that moment. What if I just blurted it out? Maybe then he'd understand I got everything about his life.

"Yes!" Harry stepped forward. "You think you understand what it's like to be me?" He jabbed a finger in my direction. "How about living with relatives who absolutely loath you, your whole school thinks you've officially gone mentally insane, taking public insults from practically the entire government, and, oh, maybe have a mass murderer after your blood for reasons you barely understand!"

"Harry, I – " My voice had lost its anger. But now I was beginning to feel a different emotion that settled in the pit of my stomach: guilt. I had never really known until now exactly how much Harry knew why Voldemort was after specifically him. And it wasn't much.

"Don't even say it," Harry cut me off with a wave of his hand.

A couple months ago, Hermione said ever since the Triwizard Tournament as a whole, Harry's personality had become almost bipolar. It's not like you could blame him. I can't think of one person who could watch another die and then forced to take part in the almost reincarnation of his worst fear. But when he had been talking about Voldemort being after his blood my gaze had unconsciously slipped down to the crook of his arm. I had seen the cut. It was still healing, though in no condition to just suddenly go away. It's kind of sad, because I had stared almost more than I had at his scar, which was the exact opposite of most of the people around. But in the Harry Potter fan's world, that knife wound pretty much means everything if you look at it. The slash made my Peter Pettigrew was clearly visible from the lower part of his upper arm to at least halfway to his wrist. It had just been before the first Quidditch game of the season. Hermione had dragged me down to give Ron one last 'Good-Luck' before he made a fool of himself on the field. They still had yet to put on their full robes and were left in just the very least of the uniform that they could get away with and still be decent. Ron and Hermione had never noticed but Harry had stepped back into the changing rooms before Hermione could even get a word out of him.

He was so close to me now I could see the thin, white line that marked the place above his eye where he warded off the Hungarian Horntail. The boy was covered in scars, and not just the visible ones.

"I wasn't trying to – "

Harry didn't interrupt me verbally that time. I cried out and had the chance to bring my hands up to my face before he lunged at me, his eyes flashing up into the sky once. His weight crashed into me, sending us both to the ground. My heart leapt into my throat; I was afraid that I might have sent him too far over the edge. The ground rushed up to me too fast. The cold sank through my clothes all the way to my bones, which jolted from being slammed into the ground. My arms instinctively curled around my head as I flinched like I was waiting for him to take a swing at me. It was after I had cowered against the ground did I catch a glimpse of the whip-like tree limb that barreled into the spot where I had stood only seconds before. Dirt and grass flew up in bits as the limb smacked into the ground with such a force to split my skull open. The limb withered on the ground for a moment, as if searching, before retracting in defeat.

I had guessed that we had taken one step much too close to the Whomping Willow. Out of everything, I hadn't noticed that we were anywhere close. We must have just been in range for I watched in pure amazement as the tree righted itself and practicality stretched back into its original form. I collapsed out of relief and would have fallen to the ground if I weren't already on it.

"Are you alright?" I heard a voice above me ask.

I almost wanted to face the Whomping Willow again more than I did want to look back at Harry. Heat immediately rushed up into my face as I noticed he was still in the position he tacked me in; his body was covering mine. I turned my face to roll out from under him only to see his flushed face through a gap in my arms, which I still had covered over my face.

"Yeah," I managed to gasp out.

"Why are you doing that?" Harry looked down at me curiously. His face was even closer than it had been that night in the common room.

"Wait!" Harry said. "You thought I was going to hit you!"

"No," I lied, but couldn't move fast enough to close the small gap that showed my face again as I blushed.

"You did! You thought I would actually hit you?"

"No." I was more reassuring myself. Deep down, I had known that Harry wouldn't dare take a swing at me. Even if he had the thought to, which I hoped would never cross his mind. But after I had made him seethe with anger, I hadn't been ready to take any chances. It was so strange – we could both make each other reach extreme levels of outrage in just a few words. Though it wasn't the hatred I had felt with Malfoy. We weren't yelling at each other in particular, but Harry seemed to just let go of everything he had been keeping bottled up inside.

"I was just a bit caught off guard when you threw yourself at me after you had just told me off."

"I wasn't telling you off, I was just . . . agitated."

"That's the same thing."

"No," It was his turn to deny. "It was – Er. . . ." Harry had looked down, past my face, as if suddenly realizing he was practically lying on top of me. His head whipped back around, his face as bright as the lining on the inside of our house robes.

"I'm – er – sorry," Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably, trying to pull himself up. He practically threw himself to the side, rolling off me like he had been shocked

I sat up, my fingers digging into the snow. I was covered in the stuff and I tried, unsuccessfully, to brush away the ice chips that were clinging to every part of my body that had made contact with the ground. Beside me, Harry was mumbling something under his breath that I distinguished as a string of curses. His back was turned to me and I watched, mesmerized, as he ran a hand through his hair. He too was covered in snow and a large piece was caught in the hood of his jacket. This time I did something I think I never would have done. Anywhere. Turning away until I was facing the Whomping Willow, I leaned back against Harry. Instantly I felt him tense under the slightest pressure, but he didn't pull away. We sat there for a moment and I was completely still until I felt his muscles relaxed as he leaned back into me. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I eyed the Whomping Willow as it swayed slightly. Clearing my throat quietly, I was the first to speak up.

"Thanks for saving my life. Again," I added with a smile he couldn't see.

"No problem. Again," Harry said. Tiny vibrations of his low voice coursed through me with each word he said.

"You think the tree will try to kill me again?" It was a dark question, but I meant it in a more humorous way. Harry laughed and my skin tickled as the vibrations again rippled through my whole body.

"Probably not, but I'd watch it just to be sure."

"Well, if it does, I'll push you down the hill just to be safe. Then we'll be even for you knocking me down and shutting me outside in the cold," I joked, knocking my shoulders against his back gently.

"Hey! I thought you just thanked me for saving your life twice!" Harry said.

"Yeah, I know," I pushed the boundaries slightly, disregarding any rules I had set for myself a few nights before, resting my head sideways against his shoulder. I felt something brush my hair and my heart skipped. Being this close to him felt so . . . good.

It had started to snow again, the flakes falling slowly from the grey sky. I wrapped my arms around myself, ignoring the coldness that had settled in my feet. Everything was so perfect I barely wanted to breathe.

"Yeah," I repeated in a whisper, mostly to myself as I closed my eyes, letting the snowflakes brush over my face.


	18. Three Time's A Charm

Our outings became almost a routine. Even after everyone had returned from break, I still found myself wandering the grounds after hours. But it wasn't until after Christmas that it became a bit reckless. Sometimes Harry would grab the Invisibility cloak just until we were out of the school, which made it easier on my part. Sneaking around really wasn't in my field of special skills, even though I had always wanted to become a spy of some sort when I was younger. I guess I was more of the clumsy sidekick that made up the humor in those stories. Once, I knocked over the large man-sized vase in front of the Room of Requirement, almost sending it crashing to the floor.

Also, I had issues with the cloak. Oh, I thought it was completely awesome no doubt. But it was the fact to knowing I was invisible would seem to just disappear from my mind as soon as something – or someone – came into view. On one of our more daring outings, it was Snape who had reached into the air as if to grab us. I had been forced to back up into Harry as Snape's fingers almost brushed my neck. But we made sure to stay away from any places Dumbledore was about. Not because he was the headmaster and all, but because a part of me had always thought he could see through the disguise. We made sure to dodge Umbridge altogether.

But it's not like we did anything. Truth be told, all we did was talk. Sure, people would think we were absolutely boring, given all the free time wasted by just sitting there when I had the whole castle at my fingertips to explore. But it wasn't me who did most of the talking; it was Harry. He would talk and I would listen. It didn't really matter on the subject; sometimes it was schoolwork because Quidditch still made him tense. Anyone could hear the longing in his voice when he described the way it felt to plunge into a gut-wrenching dive. Though, I didn't exactly see what was so fun about scaring the bigeezes out of yourself.

As it began to get warmer, the melting lake became more appealing. We stayed a good distance away from the Whomping Willow, even though Harry wanted to show me the secret passageway underneath the killer tree. I had managed to get around that one, not wanting to have my brains bashed out just trying to get a glimpse of a rotting house. Sure, I wanted to see the Shrieking Shack, but in one piece to where my intact brain would actually remember. Our trip to Hogsmeade was in about a two weeks anyway.

The Hogsmeade trip was in February; Valentine's Day to be exact. This caused a bunch of buzz to run through the school like wildfire. But it was still pretty far away, so I wasn't jumping to conclusions. If not, I could just find a reason to tour the shops with Hermione. It wasn't like Ron was suddenly going to get the guts to ask her something that took him originally seven years. But she said she had a surprise for us anyway. Mostly for Harry, but it made everyone wonder. Everyone except me.

Harry was waiting for me as usual when I hurried down the girl's dormitory that night. Everyone was already in bed, except for a poor first year, who had passed out in the armchair closest to the fire. Sprawled across his lap were various textbooks and empty ink jars. His quill was still threaded through his fingers, hovering above a large piece of parchment labeled in a scrawny handwriting. I almost envied him too; the armchair wasn't a bad place to crash in. Turning away from the boy, I immediately noticed Harry didn't have the invisibility cloak and groaned aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing," I sighed and plopped down on the sofa next to him.

"We're not going to get caught, Andy," Harry could almost read my mind now. It was kind of creepy, yet flattering in some ways.

"How did lessons with Snape go?" Harry had been forced to take daily trips down to the dungeons daily in the dead of night ever since Mr. Weasley's attack. It was usually me who sat in the common room alone for him, but I had to wait until Hermione had finally fallen asleep.

"Horrible," Harry grumbled. "I still don't understand what good the Occlumency is actually doing."

As usual, the Fat Lady was snoring in her frame, her head slumped against her bulging body. Though there were a couple pairs of flashing eyes from neighboring paintings that glinted their disapproval, but our late outings were almost so normal that half of the portraits didn't even stop to look. Though I will admit they were all the portraits that supported Gryffindor. We made sure to stay away from the first floor Hufflepuff common room and the main hallway that held many cross-supporting paintings. Opening the main doors would be stupid on many accounts. We always used the passageways that were mentioned but never really used in the books or movies. There was one that led straight into the courtyard, beside the long bridge that took you over the gaping drop between the almost island-like pieces of rock that held Hogwarts to the main land that reached the mountains. We walked silently over the bridge, pausing to look down into the dark abyss that was the lake. Everything started out as normal, that is, until the subject turned to Cedric Diggory.

I guess it really started with that bridge. It had been quiet for a moment, until I had asked Harry what he was thinking. I could always tell when he was deep in thought. If I ever let him alone long enough to ponder in his own thoughts, he would grow quiet and still. Unfortunately, he was honest with me.

"The time I flew under this bridge to escape the Horntail," Harry said bluntly before taking one last look over the edge and walking away. I strolled beside him, so close I could almost count in inches off the top of my head.

"Oh, sorry." I don't know why I apologized.

"It's nothing to be sorry about," Harry said. We had reached the end of the bridge. He absentmindedly rambled on about the Triwizard Tournament, which was strange, I remembered noticing. "It was a good thing I had my broom, because I had no clue how to get past that thing."

"I wouldn't either."

"But that task wasn't nearly as frightening as the others, believe it or not. The lake frightened me because I didn't know what was down there, same with the maze. But I know I wasn't the only one."

I probably should have stopped him, but he seemed to talk faster now, almost like he was trying to throw everything at me he hadn't been able to say in the last year.

"Hermione said I was too noble in the Second challenge. I didn't really understand the whole point of the game at the time. Now that I look back on it, how could I think that Dumbledore would have let Fleur's sister drown? But my mind was running off instinct. I really didn't have time to think.

"And maybe if Dumbledore hadn't granted me those extra points because, technically, I got there first, I wouldn't have gone the same way through the maze. I've thought about that a bunch. Maybe if I hadn't gone in with . . . None of it would have happened."

I knew exactly what he was talking about. It's all everyone wanted to know about. How Cedric Diggory died. And it wasn't in my right to explain anything to anyone, not that I even wanted to. I could almost see what Harry was probably picturing in his head: the graveyard and Pettigrew, Cedric spread-eagle on the ground in a flash of green light, Harry to weak with his bleeding ankle to barely even hold up his own body weight. I sighed, placing my hand gently above his wrist. Harry's eyes followed my hand as it traveled up to his shoulder. "Truthfully, this makes me feel depressed."

"What makes you depressed?"

"You can't do anything about it, Harry," I said. I tilted my head to look into his eyes, still as enchanting as ever. "And I can't stand to see you like this."

"Like what? I'm not doing anything different," Harry said.

"I know." I used his hesitation to add a small smile. As he had been talking, I had gone through many ideas in my mind. We had traveled far in the short amount of time, already past Hagrid's hut that stood on the shores of the lake. "So, I have a better plan," I grinned.

"A better plan?"

"Yes." I took a step back to look at him, my gaze falling to his feet. "Take off your shoes."

"You want me to what?"

"I made sure I was speaking English," I folded my arms across my chest.

"No need to get snappy with me," Harry said as he knelt down to untie his laces. I waited patiently with my hands at my hips. He kept glancing up to look at me, confused.

"There," Harry stood, now standing in his socks on the slightly frosted earth. If it had been snowing heavily, I wouldn't have done it. There was no longer the chilling wind, the temperature only lowered by the patches of snow still clinging to the ground. "Now what?"

I really didn't have a great plan, but right now all I could think about doing was keeping the topic away from Cedric and Voldemort. Having another episode like the one that seemed so long ago in Umbridge's classroom was something I wasn't longing to bring back. What I did was kind of stupid in a way. But I wasn't in the mood to think of some complex strategy at the moment. I used to play this game with my brothers all the time, and it always worked.

"Now . . ." I paused, a grin slowly spreading across my face. Harry's eyebrows shot up. His shoes were gripped limply in his hands. Instead of answering the rest of the sentence, I lunged and tore the shoes out of his unsuspecting grip. I was almost three yards away by the time Harry realize what I was doing.

"Hey!" He stood still for a moment, not wanting to move from the one, relatively dry circle of grass he was standing on. There was still melting snow in the shade of the trees, leaving behind massive wet pockets of dirt that were invisible until stepped in.

"Andy! Don't do this!" Harry shouted, motioning for me to come back.

"Oh?" I stopped and took taunting step forward, dangling the shoes an arm's length away. I pulled on my best Malfoy impression, lowering my voice and letting it soak in sarcasm. "Potter's scared to get a little wet?"

"Very funny." Harry was smiling, but he reached into his robes and drew his wand. "I can just summon those back, you know."

"How good are you with a moving target?" I called back as I turned to dart down a steep hill.

But I didn't feel the shoes attempt to jump out of my hand. It wasn't until I slowed to look over my shoulder did I hear Harry's irritated muttering as he sprinted along after me. My plan was starting to deteriorate slightly as he closed the gap in almost seconds – he was a lot faster than I had ever given him credit for. I had gone through this distraction plan in my head, all with different scenarios; I even thought of snatching his glasses. But that would have been awfully mean, and I knew he was almost as blind as a bat without them. Plus there was a lot of trees. . . .

"Get – back – here," Harry grunted as I spun to escape his reaching hand. He had caught up with me in a matter of seconds. Again, I let out a long laugh before dancing around a tree.

"What? I'm not that quick on my feet, Mr. Seeker!"

"Yeah, but that's on a broom!" Harry finally let out a true laugh as I jumped away again. I started to jog in a large circle around him, holding his shoes just out of reach.

"Ok, now you're just acting childish," he said. I stuck out my tongue, causing him to burst into laughter again. Suddenly he pounced in my direction so quickly I barely stopped in time to dart out of the way. His fingers brushed over my arm, but I managed to keep the shoes in my grasp.

"Ha!" I danced another circle around him. "I'm just too quick for you!"

"What if I said please?" Harry looked down at his soaked socks in dismay.

I pretended to think it over, pressing one finger to my temple. "Maybe that'll help," I shrugged, unable to not stop grinning. "No promises though."

"Alright, now that's just plain mean." He dove again, and this time I felt his fingers close around my wrist before I could dart away.

"No! Let go!" I switched the shoes into my free hand, pressing that one against my back. Harry, still not letting go of my arm, reached around my side to reclaim his shoes. I still fought, desperate to keep them away as long as possible.

"Give up, Andy. I've won," Harry chuckled as I began to bend at any angle that would put the most distance between him and his shoes, even though he still had my wrist.

"Never!" I shouted dramatically, bursting out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Stepping back because I had twisted my legs so much that I lost my balance, my shoulder connected with a nearby oak tree. Still laughing, Harry was pulled after me, reaching for the tree behind me to balance himself. The fingers he had wrapped around my wrist slipped and both of our hands fell, entwined, to rest on Harry's chest. I froze suddenly, my smile melting off my face. Harry's reaction was just as sudden, his gaze wandering down to his hand that slid up to rest over mine. We were silent for a moment, as still as the trees around us. It was my sudden intake of breath that caused him to look up. My chin inclined instinctively when my eyes traveled down his face. Harry leaned forward.

"Uh, you're shoes – " I yanked my arm around, shoving Harry's shoes between us. I had pulled away again, contradicting everything I had been feeling on the inside. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Every time we got physically close, all I could think about was Ginny. But not in that way, of course. I couldn't help but feel as if, by giving in, I would be hurting her with something she hadn't even experienced yet.

"Oh, er . . . thanks. . . . " Harry reached out slowly. I made sure that our fingers didn't meet as his hooked around the laces of his shoes. Harry dropped my hand and I let it fall with shame to my side. Without saying anything, we headed back towards the castle. Harry didn't even bother to put his shoes back on his feet. In my run, I had drawn us so close back to the entrance that only the bridge stood in our way. Silently cursing myself, knowing I had probably ruined my last chance. When we slipped back into the school, I barely noticed when Harry starting speaking.

"Follow me. I know a shortcut," Harry reached out and wrapped his hand around my elbow, and I couldn't hide my look of surprise. I had practically shot him down minutes before. We had only been out about an hour, but the whole castle seemed to be asleep. Instead of taking a right at the large painting of the sleeping white tiger, Harry veered left, down an unfamiliar hallway that was so dark it gave me chills.

"I can't see," I whispered.

"Trust me," Harry said. I felt his hand tighten around my arm as he led me down the hall. My heart skipped, but I told myself it was probably only out of courtesy. Suddenly, there was a thud and a dark shape flew between my legs. Harry cursed as he stumbled, catching his feet on whatever had darted under us. It was when the thing mewed we abruptly stopped.

"Oh no," Harry whispered.

"What?"

And that's when I saw it. The light, inching towards us so quickly I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Norris's bushy tail before she ran around the corner. The light filled the small hallway we were in so brightly that a couple paintings groaned in protest.

"Get in here!" Harry tugged on my arm. Filch was so close behind us that even getting out the Invisibility Cloak we didn't have wouldn't have been able to hide us fast enough.

Harry ran forward, pulling back a tapestry that covered most of a wall. I fleetingly recognized it as the hidden passage Malfoy had cornered me in. At first I wasn't so willing to go through the enclosed hole, but Harry pushed me inside, letting the curtain fall as Filch and his cat came around the corner. The tapestry was just long enough so that a centimeter of space was left bare before it hit the floor. Light from Filch's torch streamed through the opening; I caught the shadow of a four-legged animal as he paused in the hallway, wheeling around in a circle and heaving.

"Those bloody children," He gasped, waving around his torch again.

Harry braced himself against the wall, barely breathing. I stood across from him, afraid to even readjust my arms that were pinned behind my own back. The light got brighter as Filch paused directly in front of the tapestry. I could picture him reaching out to pull it back . . . I tensed, closing my eyes and waiting for the worse.

"Come on, Mrs. Norris," he finally growled out, his voice so raspy I barely understood what he was saying. The light drifted away until it was dark again.

Immediately I whipped out my wand. At my command it sparked to life and a blue sphere of light stayed perched on the tip. Harry finally let out the air he had been holding. I took a deep breath too, a bit shaken by the sudden adrenaline rush.

"He always likes to sneak up on people like that," Harry said, chuckling nervously.

"I thought you said we weren't going to get caught."

"We didn't, did we? I guess we just have a special talent in being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That was too close," I laughed breathlessly, detangling myself. The passage was as small as I remembered it being and there was barely enough room for both of us to stand sideways without bumping into each other. I looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

Harry was so quiet that curiosity got the best of me and I looked up. His green eyes reflected in the eerie light that my wand was emitting, making them a soft blue. I couldn't move as he leaned forward. His hand reached for the back of my neck as if I was going to pull away again while his other arm was at my side, pulling me closer. My wand fell to the floor with a hollow sound, the blue light still glowing softly.

The kiss was gentle but it still made my heart soar; my knees were already starting to grow weak. In the back of my head, I knew this was nothing like his experience with Cho only weeks before. Leave it to me to think about that sort of stuff as my own hands found their way to his hair. It took us both a few moments to pull away and I just stood there with my eyes closed, lips resting lightly over his. Harry suddenly smiled and I couldn't resist grinning back as he stooped to pick up my wand, whispering the counter-charm that plunged us into blackness. I rose up on my toes, searching for one last kiss before pulling the tapestry back and starting for the common room in the darkness that was no longer uncomfortable as Harry's hand slipped into mine.


	19. Mistakes

"What?"

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I were all sitting at the Gryffindor table. It had been a couple days since our little 'rendez- vous' through the castle that had lead us towards the Lady of Shallot. We had been very careful to keep it a secret from even Ron and Hermione. I didn't exactly want to tell them I was high up on cloud nine, especially with the way Hermione was acting at the moment.

Everyone had asked the question almost simultaneously, except Hermione, who had been the one to open her mouth. Ron had even choked on his cereal.

"I'm not kidding, look!" Hermione shoved a wrinkled copy of the _Daily Prophet_ forward on the table. Faintly, I caught a headline of an article about the funeral of the man to hold the greatest dragon circus. Don't really have to tell you how he died, but I was so glad I hadn't been there to witness that.

Hermione, like always, was unfortunately right. Like the other headline, this one was in bold, but made me shudder. I couldn't look at Harry's face, but could feel the hatred that shook in his voice when he shouted in disbelief.

"Black? They think he - ?"

"_Shhh!_" Hermione cut him off quickly. "Not so loud – just read it!"

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AKZABAN**

**MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT"**

**FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

"I don't believe this," Harry said while Ron was still reading the last few sentences of the article. "How can Fudge just blame the breakout on _Sirius_?" He suddenly froze, his eyes going wide. Hermione's face wasn't any better as Ron coughed, halfway through downing his pumpkin juice. There was the thud of something hitting skin and Ron cried out, knocking into the table so hard that the goblets around us wobbled.

"Oi, Hermione! What was that for!"

I didn't really know what to do, so I decided to pretend as if I hadn't caught the slip of his godfather's name. It wasn't horrible that he had said it. It was the _way_ he had said it. To anyone else, hearing the emotion in his voice would have been a red flag. But I continued to eat my breakfast as if nothing had happened. They all probably thought I was the thickest person in the world for not catching it, but how would I have been able to explain that one? Dumbledore was the safest bet, but even blaming him would have been too shady. It wasn't like him to share the life of one of the most famous people in Wizarding history with a girl who had just happened to show up in his office.

"Harry's right." I put on my best poker face, smoothing my expression to one of confusion. "I mean, the guy hasn't been seen or heard from in years. Why would he just show up now?"

The effect was immediate. Hermione shot Harry a look that I didn't fail to miss. It was a look full of relief. Even Harry let out the air he had been holding slowly, his body relaxing in his seat next to me. Hermione, of course, took only seconds to recover.

"What other options does he have," Hermione said bitterly. "He can't say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort' – stop _whimpering_, Ronald – and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.'"

"He had spent a good six months telling everyone Harry and Dumbledore are liars, anyway," Ron said.

I looked around the Great Hall. Inside, I couldn't understand how everyone could act so calm when ten of Voldemort's most dangerous followers had rejoined his ranks. Hermione had counted them all for me: Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood and Bellatrix Lestrange were just a few. I shivered at the thought of her. She was so not someone I wanted to meet anytime soon.

Despite the fact most of the school seemed to be extremely calm, (probably because Hermione was the only one who read the newspaper everyday in the entire school) the staff table was quite the opposite. McGonagall and Dumbledore were in a deep conversation, both looking grave enough to cause a small, unpleasant feeling to settle in my stomach. Professor Sprout was dripping egg yolk off her stationary spoon and into her lap as she stared fixedly at the front page. Umbridge was acting strange, mainly because she appeared almost normal. She wasn't scanning her pouty toad's eyes looking for misbehaving students. Every once in a while, though, she would glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were still conversing as intently.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked suddenly, jolting me back to the table.

"To send a letter," Hermione said as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. "It . . . well, I don't know whether . . . but it's worth trying . . . and I'm the only one who can . . . "

"I _hate_ it when she does that," Ron grumbled after she had left, throwing down his fork and standing. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take all about ten more seconds."

The three of us finished our breakfast talking about other things; anything but the daunting thought of what lied ahead in reality. It was when we were out of the Great Hall did I notice Harry's gaze. He managed to look away quickly, pretending as if he hadn't been staring in my direction. But I didn't miss the flash of his brilliant eyes, the ones that were full of guilt.

…

"Maybe it's a bit like an illness," Hermione said in a concerned voice as we settled down in the common room.

She had gone missing for just over an hour, and now that she was back all she was doing was asking Harry questions on his Occlumency with Snape. Ron had asked her why the sudden interest, because it had been over a month Harry had been having the late appointments. She had ignored him.

"A fever or something," she continued. "It has to get worse before it gets better?"

"It's the lessons with Snape that are making it worse," Harry said flatly, slumping down into an armchair beside the fire in the common room that always burned. "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting, and I'm getting tired walking down that corridor almost every night."

As he was talking, Harry rubbed his forehead angrily. "I just wish the door would open in the Department of Mysteries. I'm sick of staring at it – "

"That's not funny," Hermione said sharply. "Dumbledore doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons."

It was almost funny. The three of them seemed to trust me with their knowledge of Voldemort and his intentions (as if I didn't already know them) but they were hesitant to reveal the truth about Harry's godfather. It could have been just Harry who had trusted me with the facts about his dreams, as he had told me before Hermione and Ron had returned. Did Harry think that if he told me that he was practically related to the man who had been locked up in prison for the death of a wizard and many muggles effect how I felt about him? I guess it wouldn't be something you would bring up on the first date.

"I am working!" Harry yelled. "You try it sometime, Snape getting inside your head. It's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"

"Maybe . . ." Ron said slowly.

"Maybe what?" Hermione almost snapped.

"Maybe it's not Harry's fault he can't close his mind," Ron said, a dark tone to his voice.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"Well, maybe Snape isn't really trying to help Harry . . . maybe," his voice suddenly got lower, "he's actually trying to open Harry's mind a bit wider - make it easier for You-Know-Who."

"Oh, shut up, Ron," I said angrily. It was either that or go into the intense debate against if Snape really was good or not, which was a touchy subject for any fan. And that would have just totally freaked them out. And I was slowly beginning to see that the sentence was one that I was starting to live by.

"How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you _ever_ been right?" Hermione said. "Dumbledore trusts him! He works for the Order, which ought to be enough!"

"He used to be a Death Eater," Ron said stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he _really_ swapped sides . . ."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, then we can't trust anyone."

For some reason, Hermione's gaze flickered in my direction. I caught her eyes before letting my own slip to the floor. Nervously, I ran my hand through my hair, knowing exactly what Hermione was hinting. Ever since Mr. Weasley's attack, she had been treating me oddly. Like she knew something. When I looked up again, Harry was staring at me. I gave a small smile and Harry returned the gesture, oblivious to the real meaning of her words. But, this time, it was me couldn't help to feel a bit guilty.

Days flew by in a daze for me. Classes didn't seem as important as they had before and I was again distracted by the questions that seemed to suffocate me. Harry had asked if I was all right during Potions, when I had failed to answer him for the fifth time in a row. It had been quite comical when, as partner work came up, Harry had chosen to group with me instead of Ron, who had stood there with his cauldron a moment too long. He, in the end, had to reside to Neville when Hermione had jumped on the task of finding a different partner too quick enough for Ron.

"Are you alright, Andy?" Harry had asked the question so many times I had stopped counting.

"Yeah," I shook my head as if attempting to clear it. "Just a bit distracted, that's all."

"Well, can you pass me the ginger roots?"

"Of course." The smile that spread across my face did not reach my eyes. I reached for the roots I had cut earlier, the heat of the flames that licked against the underside of our cauldrons heating my arm through my robes. As Harry opened his hand to take them from me I realized the brushing of our fingers was inevitable. Harry stopped as our hands connected, his eyes flashing upwards to meet mine. It was like everyone else in the room had suddenly disappeared and I was with only Harry, his own eyes so bright behind his glasses it was hard to look at anything else. Suddenly there was a loud smack that came from our table. Harry and I both jumped and the ginger roots tumbled from our grasps to the floor. I whipped my head around, startled enough to knock my elbow into Harry's cauldron, making the boiling water slosh out the sides as it teetered dangerously on two legs. Harry, who had been quicker to redeem himself, grabbed one of the tipping legs and brought it back down to the table before the entire substance of our Forgetfulness Potion splattered on the floor. When I looked up, Snape was standing on the other side of our table, a wad of parchment rolled up the hand that was raised to his chest, his cold eyes staring.

"My class is not one meant to be used as a place to show your affections, Potter," Snape said in his drawling voice and Harry and I both blushed as giggles came from the Slytherins throughout the room. Snape didn't say anything else, slowly turning to walk back towards his desk, but not until he had finished telling Ron and Neville how awful their potion was.

I dropped to the floor quickly, scooping up the ruined ginger roots into my hands. I groaned, knowing that I would have to plead to Snape to gain access to his cabinet for more supplies as the roots had been contaminated the moment they had hit the grungy dungeon ground. I was going for the last piece that had rolled particularly far under the table when Harry's hand shot out, brushing my own again as he reached the root before me. He had crouched down the moment Snape had turned his back to pick on poor Neville. Harry was smiling as he pushed the root into my hand, his face still flushed.

"He was just jealous." For some reason, whenever I was embarrassed, I always felt the need to crack a joke. I jerked my head towards Snape's form that was thankfully hidden from view from under the table.

Harry leaned forward suddenly, closing the small space between us so quickly my breath caught. I felt his arm sweep over my knee but I was more drawn to the feeling of his lips as they caressed the side of my face so lightly I had to ask myself if they actually had. I was actually disappointed when he drew back, holding another piece of ginger I must have missed.

"I would be too," he said, his voice so low I barely heard him before he stood back up. It took me a moment longer to realize Snape's footsteps had stopped.

From my position on the floor, I stared up at Harry openly, a bit surprised by his daring action. He hadn't shown me any signs of public affection, even after that night behind the tapestry. But I guess that had been a bit of a good thing. Not that I wasn't a fan of a little PDA, but there was one particular word in there that I didn't approve of at the moment. I was just about to toss the ginger roots when I happened to turn my head. I hadn't even felt anyone watching me. But the moment I had moved my eyes, they had locked instantly with someone else's. And I had a feeling that he had been watching me for way longer than just a few moments.

Malfoy didn't look away from me as if he wasn't embarrassed that I had caught him staring. Instead, his cold gaze continued a few moments longer, flashing once towards Harry before disappearing.


	20. The Beetle at Bay

The trip to Hogsmeade was inching closer. Meaning so was Valentine's Day.

Ron had given up rather glumly on finding a date, though he made a sad attempt to hide his disappointment. When Hermione had brought up Cho, Harry awkwardly scooted around the subject, stealing cautious glances at me in pure distress. I had merely smiled and allowed Hermione to continue her interrogation. Ron had distracted her before Harry had managed to mention anything about us, moaning about his wrecked up love life.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly during our breakfast the day before our trip into Hogsmeade.

"What is it?" I asked politely, though Harry and I were both engrossed in reading a page from the _Daily Prophet_. Continuing to read from over his shoulder, I was trying not to become distressed about how good he smelled rather than paying attention to the article about another robbery in Gringotts. He always smelled nice, something in between soap and cedar.

Hermione was poured over a short letter that had just arrived by a brilliant brown owl, who had hooted softly before flying off again, leaving a few of its molting feathers to drift onto Ron's plate. He glared at Hermione, as if she was the one to blame, but she either was too busy reading or chose to ignore him.

"Harry, tomorrow when we go to Hogsmeade, will you meet me in the Three Broomsticks at noon?"

Harry looked up from the paper at the sound of his name, but right off the bat I knew he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"Yeah . . . er . . . sure – "

"Good, because it's real important," Hermione stood abruptly from the table, muttering under her breath phrases that made very little sense.

"There she goes again," Ron sighed, watching as Hermione's form disappeared through the large double oak doors. "Probably to bury her nose in some boring, old library book."

Harry turned and I got another whiff of cedar. "So what am I doing for Hermione?"

"Three Broomsticks, noon tomorrow," I said curtly, reaching over him to flip a page in the newspaper. The smell was almost intoxicating, but I forced myself to stay focused.

"Got it." He turned to Ron. "I forgot to ask you, but how did it go with Brooke?"

"Brooke Scott? The insanely smoking seventh year?" I asked, butting in, but also quoting Ron from a few days earlier. He threw me a slightly dirty look.

"So? Who cares," he grumbled.

"That bad?" Harry said.

"He sort of screamed at her, like he did last year with Fleur." Ginny had walked up, a pair of rugged textbooks clutched to her chest. "I don't think I've ever seen a girl run faster."

"Shut up, Gin." Ron flushed a bright pink as we all laughed.

…

"So . . . tomorrows the trip to Hogsmeade."

There was something in the way Harry had said the sentence that made me pause. We were just in the common room as usual and I had been pouring over Trelawney's assigned 'Dream Journal' in agony. It was so boring even Harry had given up on it hours before, but I had forgotten to write in it for about a month and, of course, it was due in two hours.

"Mhmmm." I wasn't really paying attention, writing down an entry to which one of my friends was going to die a painful death. Oh, she'd love that one.

"Hey," I interjected quickly, running the tip of my quill down the side of my neck absentmindedly. "What's a good dream to have the tenth of January? If there is a preference."

"I once said I had been attacked by a deranged unicorn and she took it," he said.

"But I already said that."

"Hey! You can't take my ingenious idea!"

"Too late," I grinned before turning back to the small book that was causing me so much trouble in distaste. It was quiet for a moment, save for the scratch of my quill as I finished my dream about dancing banshees.

"Well, I was wondering . . . if . . . well, if we . . . if – if you wanted to . . . to . . ." Harry said. Well, he was trying to say something.

"Yes?" I set my quill down to look at his already flushed face. I could tell where he was going, but I didn't stop him. Harry was really romantically challenged at times. Even when it came to the relatively simple stuff. And when I say really, I mean _really_. But he wasn't completely hopeless. I knew it was mostly because he took too much advice from Ron. But it was strange too. He would pull a stunt like the one he had in Potions class the week before but I hadn't described how long it had taken him to ask me to be his partner for group assignments.

"I'm not doing much tomorrow, just meeting Hermione, but . . . would you want to meet me too?"

"With Hermione?"

"No," he said quickly.

"Meet you where?" Now I was just toying with him.

"Er . . . you can pick. . . " The way he said it made me immediately know he hadn't thought this far through.

"Wouldn't it just be easier if I went with you?"

"Yes, that would be great!" Harry's lips curled into a smile that couldn't hide his embarrassment.

"But what about Ron?" I asked the question out of mere curiosity. And I kind of wanted to know if he had finally managed to win the seventh year he had been obsessively dreaming about for weeks.

"Oh, turns out he can't go because of a mandatory Quidditch practice." Harry's expression darkened at the thought, but tried to cover it up with a comment about Ron's lost love. I sat there in silence, listening to him talk. If he thought this was bad, I wanted to tell him just to wait until Ron and Lavender got together.

"Did you even finish your 'Dream Journal'" I asked suddenly, as the thought had just entered my mind.

"Nope," Harry smiled.

"Why not?"

"I don't really have to because, you see, I wrote I was going to die very painfully by the end of the month, so I don't have a need to write anymore, since I'm dead."

"You really think she's going to take that?" I asked skeptically.

"She did last year," he grinned.

…

After we had finished breakfast the day of the Hogsmeade trip and Hermione had disappeared once again, I joined Harry in the middle of the crowd that was already streaming from the castle doors. Ron had left breakfast early, grumbling about Angelina's insane rules, but shutting up quickly at Harry's strong gaze. Everyone was in such a hurry to get on their way towards the village that we were practically pushed out the door. But it wasn't uncomfortable as everyone was caught up in the day created by the greeting card company. If Umbridge had been in charge then, she would have gone absolutely nuts over the close contact that everyone was displaying between each other. Following the lead of the couple in front of us, Harry had actually reached out for my hand, but was interrupted when a Slytherin girl stepped on the hem of my robes, making me stumble. Harry pulled me over to the side by my arm, saving me from any further humiliation but also not kind enough to keep from laughing at me.

"Oh, come on," Harry smiled, grabbing my hand so he could thread his fingers though mine. "It was funny!"

"I almost fell! Of course you would think that funny!" I tried to step back, but Harry just followed, not letting go of my hand. "Get off me, Potter. I'm not going to Hogsmeade with someone who uses my unbalanced equilibrium as a joke."

"It wasn't your fault," Harry said. "Pansy Parkinson must have done something, because she looked too happy."

I remembered the flash of green and black robes the moment after my feet had caught on the inside of my own. Gasping, I turned back towards the crowd, craning my head over the sea of people. "That was _her?_ That – "

Both of us didn't see her until she spoke.

"Hi," Cho said, her voice sounding so sweet. But it wasn't like Umbridge's attempt to hide all the hatred that lady had horribly hidden within her stout body. Cho's voice was just naturally sweet sounding. I hated that. Harry and I both turned, but Cho didn't even give me a second glance.

"Hi," Harry smiled. I immediately felt something tug at my gut. Knowing what that feeling was, I was more embarrassed over the fact that I was letting it take over. Harry was just being polite, I told myself. Cho just stood there for a moment, looking very pretty with her hair tied back into a long ponytail. Suddenly her eyes flickered in my direction and, as if she had just noticed me, her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Cho said, a very cute, guilty look crossing her face. "Was I interrupting?"

"No," Harry said quickly. But he didn't miss my piercing glare. "It's just, I was going to spend the day at Hogsmeade with Andy."

Cho's alluring smile faltered for a moment and she turned to look at me directly for the first time. Her gaze dropped towards our hands. And then our entwined fingers.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said again and this time I caught the disappointment that she was unable to hide. Deep down, I couldn't help feeling the slight twinge of sympathy for the Ravenclaw. But, as I had said, that was pretty deep down.

"Well, I'll see you around, Harry." And with that, Cho was gone.

"Can you say that was awkward?" I said as her sleek black head disappeared into the crowd.

"Just a little bit." Harry didn't let go of my hand as we followed the stream of people. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw a glimpse of Cho's dark eyes as if she had turned around again.

It wasn't really the most perfect day for an outing Hogsmeade; the sky was grey and had been threatening to rain the moment we had stepped outside. The air was biting at the bare skin of our faces. I was betting I was already a gruesome shade of pink.

"So . . . " Harry paused in the middle of the cobblestone lane after we had made the surprisingly short walk to the village. "What now?"

"Can we go to the shops?" I couldn't hide my excitement. I was like a kid who was just two feet from a candy store but being forced to stand outside the glass window and watch everyone else cherish in the aisles and aisles of sweets.

"What did you have in mind?"

We continued to walk down the street until the shop of Dervish and Banges. A small crowd had started to gather around the outside window and parted when Harry and I approached. It only took one glance for me to notice it was a Wanted poster. There was a thousand-Galleon reward for the ten ominous looking people staring back at me, all Death Eaters.

"It's funny, isn't it," I said in a low voice, choosing my next words carefully. "I've heard how when Sirius broke out of Azkaban, there were dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him. And then . . . this . . ." I threw my hands up in the air desperately, motioning to the empty sky.

"Yeah," Harry said. "They aren't anywhere . . . "

"But . . ." I dragged out the word and stepped in front of him. Harry stopped short, his hands in his pockets and a smile playing across his lips. "I have this dying wish to go to Honeydukes."

When he didn't answer fast enough for me I reached forward to touch the edge of his shirt collar slightly. His eyes followed my fingers as if mesmerized. I held back a giggle. "Please?"

"Well," Harry jerked back into attention as he looked up, no trace of his earlier thoughts of Death Eaters and Sirius on his face. I was getting really good at that. "What's keeping you?" He grabbed my hand lightly. We walked in the direction of the sweetshop so close my heart stuttered, if it could even do that. All I knew was that I started to become a little lightheaded.

The shop was amazing. Colors of blue and orange danced across the oddly shaped walls. There was the ever-so-famous (in my opinion) Acid Pops, though I don't think I would actually trust one of those things. Cockroach Clusters, Chocolate Wands, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Exploding Bonbons covered the shelves. It took everything I had not just to reach out and grab all I could get my hands on. The place was so alive; I couldn't help the happiness that seeped through me the moment I stepped through the door. Harry bought a bag of Pepper Imps while I splurged on a few Sugar Quills, though mostly because I was fascinated by how the light reflected between the pure outline of the edible writing utensil.

Harry had just made me try a candy that tasted like strawberries and chocolate when we passed Fred and George, who were laughing at the doorstep of Zonko's. Fred caught sight of us over his brother's shoulder, snickering and prodding George in the side.

"Great," Harry said. He veered to the left suddenly, pulling me along with him.

"Aw, come on," I said. "It's only Fred and George."

"If it's the Fred and George I know then I'm in for it," Harry said, shoving the rest of his candy in his coat pocket.

"What do you mean you're 'in for it'?"

Harry stopped short. "No! That's not what I meant – I . . . it's – they will – I'm –"

I smiled, linking my arm through his. Harry looked immensely relieved.

"How about that trip to the Shrieking Shack?"

Harry's face lit up and I laughed as he began to tug me down the cobblestone road by my wrist. But as we passed a small, pink teashop on the edge of High Street, which ran all the way down to the Station that docked the Hogwarts Express four times a year, I thought I saw a head of black hair turn to goggle at us through the frosted window.

The trail was short, but a light drizzle was starting to descend. There were less people out that way, all of them trying to stay out of the sudden and bitter cold. I used this as an excuse to lean in closer to Harry, and I about did flips when I felt his arm around my waist. We made it down to the Shrieking Shack too quickly. Harry found a huge rock that rested right at the crooked gate, settled between two trees that sheltered us. Harry gazed up at the rotting building thoughtfully. I really didn't have to guess what he was thinking.

The Shrieking Shack did in fact live up to his name. The front side of the building was way past the needs of repair and the grey shutters that hung off each window were either missing or leaning sideways off one hinge. It was a towering house, the roof collapsing in places and the paint peeling off the wood paneling that seemed to encase everything. The lot around it wasn't any better, grass and weeds measuring to at least three feet. It was in desperate need of a cut, and I couldn't imagine what had begun living in there.

"Well," I said, taking my place on the boulder next to Harry, my heart fluttering like crazy when he still kept his arm around me, "it certainly does have character."

Harry laughed, taking off his glasses to wipe the wet lenses clean on his jacket. He turned to say something to me when suddenly he stopped, glaring at a spot over my shoulder.

He wasn't here for a fight. At least a physical one, for his wand wasn't even in his hand. No, I knew why he was here. He was here to gloat. Not that he had anything to gloat about anyway, you know, because it was Malfoy. It was probably something I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a fork rather than listen to.

"Potter. Goodrich." He nodded to each one of us in turn, a sneer already on his face.

Harry didn't remove his arm from around my waist. I caught Malfoy eyeing the small but strong gesture coldly.

"What do you want?" Harry's words were jerked and irritated.

"Nothing," Malfoy said.

"Then why are we having to look at your face," I said. It wasn't a very awesome comeback, but I had never been great at those, if someone couldn't tell.

He glared at me with his piercing silver eyes. It was my turn to smile.

"None of your business, Goodrich," he spat.

"He was following us." I bent my head slightly to mutter in Harry's ear. He responded by nodding ever so slightly.

"Remember that time two years ago, you were so scared out of your wits that you hallucinated that you saw my floating head? Still see your mind isn't totally right."

"Don't start, Potter." Malfoy took a step forward and Harry's arm instinctively tightened around my waist a bit too tight.

"What?" I jeered back. "You gonna run and tell your daddy that we teased you?"

"I wouldn't be the one talking, Goodrich. At least I have a daddy."

That's when it hit me. The look on Malfoy's face confirmed it. Anger and dread flared up inside me.

"Shut up," I said, but my voice betrayed me and cracked. Malfoy snickered, knowing he had finally said something that got to me.

"Oh? You didn't know?" Malfoy was clearly enjoying himself. Harry was now glancing between us with a blank expression. Wait – better make that me and _it_. I didn't want to be associated with that bastard ever, even if my life depended on the words.

"I thought you would have, knowing your 'situation'." He even used the air-finger quotation marks in mockery.

I couldn't take it anymore. Malfoy was just out of arms length and his white throat gleamed underneath the open collar of his jacket. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself in the air, my hands outstretched and going for his unguarded neck. Malfoy didn't even have the chance to react.

A pair of strong arms held me back just as my fingers brushed his skin. I let out a cry of anger, struggling to reach Malfoy so I could beat the living Death Eater out of him or something like that.

_"Andy_." Harry's face was by my ear. But I was so angry I didn't even care how close we were from each other at the moment, and that was saying a lot.

Malfoy had fallen backwards, caught off guard by my outburst, his hands at his face. He had tripped over his own feet, landing on his pureblood butt in the snow. If I hadn't been trying to rip off his head, I would have laughed hysterically.

"He's not worth it," Harry was saying. I continued in my helpless attempt to pry his hands from the inescapable snare they made around my waist but gave up, almost collapsing in his arms. It was no use to fight against Harry. Maybe if I had worked out a little more back home, but who really likes to go out for a ten-mile joyride on foot?

Malfoy stood quickly, his face as stony as the boulder I had been sitting on while brushing invisible chips of snow off the front of his expensive black jacket.

"You better get out of here," Harry said.

He seemed to get his sneaky, but stupid, composure back. "Or what?"

"He'll set me loose on you and, trust me," I said threateningly, "I'd rather make the run for it."

Malfoy let one last sneer slide over his face, but turned around on his heel, strutting off. Crabbe and Goyle, who I had not noticed before then, jogged along after him, their long arms swinging like apes.

"Sometimes I just wish I could just – " Harry cut himself off in anger, watching Malfoy's back as he sauntered off towards the shops.

"Tell me about it," I plopped back onto the rock again, resting my head in my hands. I felt Harry sit down and didn't even need to look up to know he was watching me.

"Are you alright?" By the way he said it, Harry must have known I was nowhere from alright. But I didn't answer straight away. I was too busy biting back the tears that were threatening to break. When I felt as if I could answer with a straight face, I turned to look him in the eyes.

"Never better," I lied through gritted teeth. Harry frowned.

"If you want to talk about something . . ."

"No, it's ok. Wouldn't want to bore you to death." I tried to smile but I think I came out more lunatic looking then I probably already was. It was sweet he was offering though and I felt bad turning him down, but I was silently thankful he didn't push it by asking any more questions.

"What time is it?" The thought popped into my mind, a spur of the moment question. Not only because I really wanted to change the subject, but also because it had just hit me.

"Almost noon, why?"

"Hermione!"

…

She was waiting for us, of course, at the back of the pub. But that's not why Harry stopped in shock. Sitting next to her was Luna Lovegood and the one person I could actually correctly guess as the ex-journalist, Rita Skeeter, even though I had never laid an eye on the woman before. And I didn't need any past references to know those two weren't Hermione's favorite people in the world. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought this was the strangest meeting in the world.

"You're early!" Hermione said, sliding down on the bench she was sitting on to give us room. I sat opposite Harry, and to my dismay, next to Rita Skeeter. I had never felt more sorry for crocodiles until I took a long look at her handbag. And her jacket. And her nails that were even painted to match the animal's leathery skin. Truth be told, we were only a few minutes early. I had made Harry run all the way back to the main street, trudging through the now pouring rain. I had become soaked in seconds and I was already sitting in a puddle. But the table had been so quiet when we had walked up, I hardly doubted Hermione had just wanted to say something to fill the silence.

"I thought you and Andy would still be out," Hermione continued.

"Andy? Is this some new addition to your trio that we haven't heard about?" Rita gleamed, her eyes darting towards Hermione. Even though I had been sitting next to her, she had paid me no attention more than you would look at a potted plant. "It looks like you, Harry might have some competition."

"How many times do I have to say Harry and I are not dating," Hermione said coolly as Harry choked over the butterbeer Hermione had already ordered for him. He looked up at me, trying to keep the drink from spewing out on the table. I returned his gaze curiously.

"And I don't know what you mean by competition." Harry managed to gulp down his butterbeer, but was still trying to hold back his laughter.

"Well, with this new guy addition, _Andy_, one like me can't help but assume it," Rita explained it like what she had said was just the most obvious thing in the world. I flushed, finally understanding why Harry was laughing so hard now. Even Hermione was chuckling, but Luna, of course, was staring at the table as if no one had said anything.

"Um, I don't know what you've been _assuming_." I spoke up for the first time and Rita turned towards me. Her eyebrows shot up as if she finally realized there was a living person sitting next to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss." Rita held out her hand in a very help-me-gods-this-nobody-is-ruining-my-scoop journalist manner. I took it very politely and she just shook it once. "I don't think I ever caught your name."

"I'm Andy."

I had never heard of Rita Skeeter blushing, but she did turn a strange shade of green like her fashion ensemble. Harry slammed his mug onto the table in another fit of laughter and Luna looked up from the table. Rita's mouth opened but no sound came out. Hermione, on the other hand, looked amazed Rita had nothing to say for the first time.

"Though if Hermione and I did have a 'fling', I'd make sure you'd be the first to know," I said, unable to hold back my own laughter. Harry was almost dying and Hermione was openly, and almost insultingly, giggling at Rita Skeeter.

"Er – Thanks, but . . . no thanks," Rita managed to say.

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly in an agreement. "Ok, if you say so, but you could title it maybe "_Diversity in Hogwarts_." I spread my hands out in the air above my head like I was picturing the headline in front of me.

Luna suddenly burst out into what sounded remotely like a birdcall. Harry and Hermione both stopped abruptly at the sound and several heads turned. The whole pub went quiet as I realized Luna's birdcall was actually laughter. She all but rolled around on the ground, her fists banging against the wood table. Harry had to reassure a bartender she was all right in the head in between Luna's strange cries.

"DIVERSITY! . . . HA! . . . HA! HOGWARTS!" Luna fell into another loud peel of screeching laughter. I cringed as her voice flew octaves in both directions. Then, just as suddenly she stopped, looking at us with a mild expression that clearly said '_what_?'.

"Okay, then . . ." Hermione said slowly as if she was afraid Luna would have another fit again. Luna was now about as normal as Luna could get, turning back to the table as if nothing had happened.

I glanced at Rita again and this time I saw something different. I had remembered moments before she had been fired from her job months ago on the _Daily Prophet, _but I couldn't think of the exact reason. Her hair wasn't the usual curly spirals as the books had described her, but was lank and unkempt. And the scarlet nail polish that was painted to look like leather skin was chipped and bit at. Her winged glasses were missing a couple false jewels.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked Hermione, but Rita turned on him before she could open her mouth.

"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," said Rita, taking a large slurp from her drink. "I suppose I'm allowed to _talk_ to him, am I?"

"I suppose you are," Hermione answered just as coldly.

Rita took another sip out of her drink and, instead, whispered in my direction out of the corner of her mouth: "You got a boyfriend?"

The butterbeer Hermione had also ordered for me threatened to reappear upon the table. But I didn't miss Harry's unreadable gaze that disappeared as quickly as I had noticed.

"One more word about anyone's love life around here and the deal's off," Hermione said.

"What deal?" Rita wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You haven't mentioned anything about a deal yet, Miss Prissy. You just told me to show up."

"Not so you can write another horrible story about lies," Hermione said.

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help," she said almost miserably, but shot a sideways glance at Harry. "How do you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"He's angry, of course," I said. "Because he's told the Ministry of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him."

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?" asked Rita, lowering her glass to stare at Harry. "You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness –"

"I wasn't the sole witness," Harry cut her off, almost snarling. "There were a dozen Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita said, fumbling for her acid green quill and pad, all while looking at Harry like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. "But of course," her expression died suddenly, "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," Hermione said sweetly, "That's exactly what Miss Little Perfect _does_ want."

Rita and Harry looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted hair on her face. I can still say I kind of wished I had seen that, their mishap with the Polyjuice potion during their second year. Yeah, I know it had been pretty serious, but she was coughing up _fur balls_ and had a _tail_. Not to mention the ears. Man, I wonder what she had been thinking the moment she realized her body was covered in fur. Luna, on the other hand, started singing something that sounded strikingly similar to "Weasley Is Our King" dreamily under her breath as she stirred her drink with a cocktail onion on a stick.

"You want _me_ to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita said in a hushed voice.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said. "The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry reports them. He'll give you all the details, he'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw there, he'll tell you what Voldemort looks like now – oh, get a grip on yourself," she snapped suddenly, throwing a napkin across the table for, at the sound of Voldemort's name, Rita had jumped so badly she had slopped half of her glass of firewhisky down herself. Rita took the napkin slowly and, as she started to blot the front of her grubby raincoat, her composure returned slightly.

"The _Prophet _wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes his story. Everyone thinks he's delusional. Now, if you let me write the story from that angle – "

"We don't need another story about how Harry's lost his marbles!" I said angrily. Hermione shot a strange glance in my direction, her mouth opened slightly as if she had been about to speak. Like I had taken the words right out from her. Technically, I had. "Hermione wants to give him an opportunity to tell the truth."

"There's no market for a story like that," Rita glared at me coldly.

"You mean the _Prophet _won't print it because Fudge won't let them," said Hermione, her tone turning slightly irritated – probably at the thought of the Minister of Magic. Or at least I hoped it was at him and not because of me.

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna said suddenly. She was sucking on her cocktail onion slowly, gazing at Rita with enormous, slightly mad eyes. "He publishes important stories he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about the money."

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?" Rita gave Luna a disparaging look.

"No," Luna dipped the onion back into her cup, "he's the editor of _The Quibbler._"

Rita snorted so loudly that people at a nearby table turned around in alarm. Next to her, I almost jumped out of my seat.

"Important stories he thinks the public needs to know? I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag!"

"Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it," Hermione said in a pleasant voice.

"What?" Rita crackled. "_The Quibbler! _You think people will take him seriously if he's published in _The Quibbler?_"

"Some people won't," Hermione said in a leveled voice, "but the _Daily Prophet's_ version of the Azkaban Breakout left some pretty gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation out there of what happened. Even if it is published in a –" she glanced sideways at Luna, "in a – well, an _unusual_ magazine – I think they might be rather keen on reading it."

Rita was silent for a moment before speaking slowly: "All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it – what kind of fee am I going to get?"

"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," Luna said dreamily. "They do it because it's an honor to have something published, and to see their names in print."

Rita Skeeter looked as if she had tasted something as horrid as Stinksap. "Wait! I'm supposed to do this for _free?_"

"Well, yes," Hermione said calmly, taking a long sip of her drink while Rita continued to stare at her like she had said they were in the crisis of a zombie apocalypse. "Otherwise, as you know very well, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the _Prophet_ might want to give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban . . . "

Rita looked as though she would have liked nothing better than to take the paper umbrella sticking out of Hermione's drink and thrust it up her nose. The two of them were hysterical to watch, but I so didn't want to be on the opposite end of Hermione's blackmail.

"I don't suppose I've got a choice, have I?" Her voice was tighter than usual as she tossed the acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a piece of parchment onto the table.

"Daddy will be pleased," Luna said brightly and I caught the slight movement of Rita's jaw muscle twitch.

"Okay, Harry?" Hermione turned to him. "Ready to tell the truth?"

"I suppose," Harry said, eyeing the over-feathered quill in Rita's slightly shaking hand.

"Fire away, then, Rita," Hermione said with a something that could have been a smile while fishing a cherry from the bottom of her glass.


	21. Abandoned

"Wait? Umbridge did _what_?"

Harry grumbled something underneath his breath and sagged deeper into the couch. I had skipped breakfast that morning in order to cram in a little homework before classes actually started. I don't think I've ever said it, but after a week in Divination and Ancient Runes with Hermione, I had started to miss the simplicity of my old muggle-school classes. And I also had Snape in the back of my mind always making sure I had something to do when I could be exploring the castle. It always seemed like the three of them had more time than I did but I guessed that was because I was _still_ getting used to the change. By then, I was starting to think that I would never get used to anything.

"You should have seen the look on her face, Andy!" Ron chuckled. Hermione didn't glare at him that time surprisingly, turning to toss something into my lap.

"The first page," Hermione instructed as I picked up the magazine, peeling back the bright front cover of _The Quibbler._ My eyes widened as I read in the headline.

"Harry! It's your interview!" I squealed, my eyes glued to the page.

"Yeah," he sighed. "That means more fun nights with that woman, but just watching her read the cover was enough for it to be worth everything."

"She gave you detentions for this?" I said.

"What else?" Ron said, mumbling something else about her that I wasn't appropriate.

"Ron!" Hermione almost scolded him. "But now she's banned the magazines completely from Hogwarts grounds."

"So how are people going to read the interview?" Ron asked, genuinely confused.

"Ron, don't you see?" I shook the magazine in his direction. "If she could have done one thing to make sure that every single person in this school will read Harry's interview, it is banning it!"

"Yes!" Hermione grinned. "Though if it wasn't for all the letters from the readers, I reckon you wouldn't be seeing Umbridge again after hours."

I looked back down at the paper in my hands, laughing slightly as I glanced at Harry's headshot on the front cover, grinning sheepishly up at the camera.

"What is it?" Harry said in a slightly offensive tone and I realized he knew what I was chuckling at. "What? You don't like it?"

"Oh no, I personally think you're absolutely lovely, Harry," I said with such politeness that Harry snorted in disbelief. But I gave him a quick smile before looking back down at the blood-red headline.

"_'HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN_. . . . wow . . . that's quite deep, man," I wolf-whistled.

"Loony thought it was absolutely stunning," Ron commented in a voice only he could pull off.

"Be nice to her," Hermione smacked him. "Without _Luna_, none of this would have been able to happen."

"Bloody hell, Hermione." I looked over and Ron was rubbing his arm. "There was no need to hit me!"

"Suck it up," Hermione said dismissively and turned to me. "Though more people think Harry's completely off his rocker than I would have wanted, but we can't get everything, I guess."

"So you're saying some believe him?"

"Why do you say it like you're so surprised?" Harry asked.

"I'm not!" I said more sharply than I had intended to. "Trust me, I'm not."

"A good amount, too," Hermione said. "Or at least as much as I could get my hands on until that devil-woman stepped in. Though silly Luna did make a bit of a scene over her father's magazine. "

"Hit her for me, Andy," Ron was still nursing his shoulder, his words aimed at Hermione. "She bad-mouthed Loony like I did."

"No, not like you did Ron," Hermione said sternly. "And it's _Luna_. You need to learn when to hold your tongue."

"You're just saying that because you know it's true!" Ron said defiantly.

"Of course," Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"See! I told you," Ron pointed at her in his confused victory.

There was a moment when all three of our eyes met, causing us burst out into unexplainable laughter. Or at least unexplainable to Ron, who was left staring at us a little bit too stupidly from his seat by the fire.

"What?"

…

The next night I went out late again like usual. But this time I was alone.

I had told Harry I wasn't feeling very well and wanted to get to bed early. It wasn't a total lie, but I knew I couldn't sleep even if I wanted too. As soon as my head hit the pillow my mind would whirl with everything that had happened, most of them nagging at me until I had to get up and move. But I wasn't feeling exactly well in a way, as I had said, but not as one would think.

The hallways were always deserted, except for a few stragglers hurrying off to their dormitories. It was really late at night that some of the uptight teachers patrolled the castle. I had a few close calls with Umbridge herself times before but Snape just paced dully through the labyrinth of turns as if bored. I couldn't help but thinking that Umbridge forced it upon them, because McGonagall was to come along next and looking none too happy. Deep down, I was actually surprised I was able to get past them though I could have sworn McGonagall had made eye contact. The Head of Gryffindor had just turned on her heel and walked away but I had the feeling she really had spotted me. I was in constant pain. But it wasn't something superficial. It was like when you watch the horror movies that are so gruesome that when someone's knee is shattered, the same spot aches as you continue to watch. No, I guess that's just the mind playing tricks. It was the deep feeling that wouldn't go away no matter how hard you tired to fix yourself.

Most of it was Malfoy; I'll come out cleanly and say it. I hadn't seen him since Hogsmeade, but it was like he had been breathing down my neck for weeks. The rest of my pain that rested within my psychological being was everything else. And it wasn't like it was just one little thing; it was one little thing after another. I had slowly been breaking apart at the seams so far where I felt like I was going to burst.

My old life was almost like a mirage. I could remember bits and pieces here and there; when my brother ate a vomit flavored jelly bean from a Harry Potter franchise store, when I shoved my seventeen-year-old cousin into the cold pool and later paid dearly, the musical I performed in my freshman year of high school, when I had gotten to dance with my old crush at the sixth grade Spring dance, and my personal spot on the family couch we shared in the living room. They were all the smaller things. I couldn't even remember what my house looked like; I had been gone away so long. Sure, I recalled what the general picture was, but was the chandelier in the foyer or dining room? What about the stairs? Which hallway led to my room? What had been hanging on the walls in the living room? Did I even have a house before this? The world I was in was so livid, that my whole life seemed like a dream. Maybe I was like the hero's I had read in my adventure books; I was having the ability to travel between worlds? But was I really the hero? That was the next question.

Malfoy had sort of kicked it into place for me. I had been trying to push it away, to be truthful. I didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it only brought pain. And it was this pain I felt as I turned blindly down the next hallway. What did he mean, 'At least I have a father'? I had a father . . . right?

He was just a memory, a blur. I could glimpse his graying hair, tall build and spunky personality I sometimes unfortunately showed and which always got me into trouble. My mom and brother were the same. I could picture my brother's glasses clearly because I had made fun of him about it, but the teasing was just the sibling thing. My mom, we'll I remembered only her brown hair and how people always said I was the younger version of her. Bella, my dog . . . _oh no_ . . . my gut gave another wrenching move. I clamped my hand over my mouth, just in case. I hadn't even checked to see if she was alright that night. I hadn't gotten the chance to go downstairs. Each time I thought of her scared brown eyes at the sight of the intruders or the fire, I would feel tears burn in my eyes. But I bit them back. Crying wouldn't help. But that just made me want to let them fall even more. But what was I able to do? Dumbledore was starting to disappear more often (even though I had turned him down on his offer before the second term) and there was _no_ way I was going to that crazy toad lady. I know I'd rather have thrown myself off the Astronomy Tower than confront her about my _feelings_, god forbid that woman.

Inside this living dream, my life was a train wreck. My grades were slipping ever so slowly. Harry had been able to distract me for short periods of time recently, but other than that, I only sat thinking. Hermione had been getting on my nerves lately, and Ron just knew well enough from my body language to stay out of hitting distance. Umbridge had begun to annoy me like hell, and her classes were absolutely dreadful. I actually missed my slightly crazed and old Geometry teacher I had absolutely loathed. He had two of his fingers missing from a mishap with a lawn mower and his memory wasn't exactly one to count on with remembering things. And I already sucked in math. I didn't exactly _loathe_ the teacher, but I had loathed the class nevertheless. He was a sad teacher, too old and too worn down after many years of good-ol' life and its turns. But we only saw that _thing_ of a woman a few days a week, so I could continue on scraping by with the tips of my fingernails, theoretically speaking.

As I wondered on through the castle I could almost hear my mom's voice nagging at me to get back in bed before I was caught. I was so happy I could actually picture her fully for the first time in weeks that I was almost addicted to the feeling. It made me feel closer ironically while I was breaking many school rules. But I didn't really care if I was caught. Worse comes to worse I would be expelled. Then they would have to send me . . . where? I actually stopped in my walk and just stood there, thinking hard. Oh, I knew what the answer was to the question. Home. Of course it was. But where was that? I was as good off as Harry. No, I was worse than Harry. He had a place to go back to. If I was expelled, where would I be able to go?

I had almost given into the thought that I was slowly growing mentally insane. Or maybe I already was. Had they sedated me so much I forgot everything? I didn't know if that was possible. I had never used any type of drug in my life, let alone medical issued ones. I was the goody-two-shoes, but take out less of the smartness so no one could compare me to the brilliant Hermione. I even denied alcohol when my parents were the ones to offer. Only on special occasions though, like Christmas and New Years, run down by water so that the taste was bland. I personally didn't want that stuff in my body; even though my older cousins lavished the day they could pass as a legal adult with a fake ID. My mother had never approved of that. I was lucky if I could stay out passed nine o'clock on a Saturday night. I could almost picture her and, for a moment, the old living room I had grown up in. And my real name was never Andy. I wished it said that on my birth certificate, I can say. I had been named after my great-great grandmother. Or someone way back there. I had never loved the name Andrea, but that was just me. Sure, I thought it was a pretty name though it fit me pretty much like if you named your dog Kitty. But I guess I can thank elementary school for naming me Andy. I always played soccer; never missed a recess as that would have meant skipping the game. One could guess that became my nickname. Someone had to have a nickname in soccer, unless your name was Roy or something. Roy is short. You need short names because by the time you yell a three syllable word, the ball is on the other end of the field. And then the traditional yearbook signing came. All it took was for one of my soccer buddies to address it to_ 'Andy'_ before my whole book was covered. And I liked it. My mom would ask me why I just wouldn't go by the name she had given me, or maybe end it with an '_ie'_. Truth be told, that's the way I liked it. The name was tougher, more masculine. Different. I answered to Andy more than Andrea, not telling anyone unless they asked. Like that kid from _To Kill a Mockingbird_ who had the crazy long name that he wasn't fond of and just shorted it down to Dill. Why Dill, no one knows.

I didn't leave the castle. Instead, I wandered towards the library. Of course, even in my state, I couldn't resist the Restricted Section. But I wasn't stupid enough to open the books, not knowing which ones would scream back at me. I ran my fingers over the leather-bound spines. Being in the library, my thoughts dragged to Tom Riddle - not Voldemort. In his years at Hogwarts he could have been standing right where I was, thumbing the same book. Learning about Horcruxes.

I had been wondering how that was going to play out now. Was I just supposed to cut it to the chase? Just tell them how to kill him? But what would that do? It would save people's lives, that would be a given. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Collin Creevey. Maybe George wouldn't lose his ear. Moody would have been able to fight at Harry's side in the Battle of Hogwarts. But I couldn't help thinking what that would do. What if they had to die? I would just be prolonging the inevitable. But what if someone died who wasn't supposed to? It made me sick just thinking about it. No one had the right to answer that question. At least no human being. And that ruled me out.

I sank to the floor with my back against one of the tall bookcases. Wrapping my robe tighter around myself, I let a sob escape out of my throat. I had been holding it back, unable to fully express it. But now I let it all out, realizing just how alone I was.


	22. Discovered

March crawled by so slow that I was finally grateful for the squally month after it. March had been dreadful. Umbridge decided it was her right to attend every Care of Magical Creatures class Hagrid could teach, standing in the corner and scrawling on her grubby, little pink clipboard. Sometimes I just wanted to yank that thing out of her rat-like fingers and stomp it into the muddy earth. But that wasn't the only reason. March twenty-first had past blindly. My mother's birthday. Forty-four, I _believe_. But hell, I was slowly starting to lose my mind anyway.

Hermione was going already whack about the O.W.L.s. But she wasn't the only one. All fifth years were stressed to some degree. But Hannah Abbott became the first to receive a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey after her episode that ended in tears during Herbology and she sobbed that she was too stupid to take exams and wanted to leave the school now.

If it hadn't been for D.A. lessons, I really don't know what I would have done. I could tell it was Harry's getaway from all the mess going on in Hogwarts too. He had mused about the reaction on Umbridge's face when we all got "Outstanding" in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s. And we had finally started to work on Patronuses, which everybody had been keen to practice. Harry kept reminding us that producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when we were under no threat was difficult.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," I said. Even through all my mental pain, the sight of my wand could clear anything up for a small amount of time. Just doing the simplest of spells could take my mind off of anything. Especially when I conjured my Patronus for the first time. But the ironic thing is, months ago when I would pretend with the replica of Harry's wand I had in my room, my happy thought had been him. Now, as I stood in the Room of Requirement with my happy thought steadying my wand arm, I didn't know what I'd use. It was when the silvery arctic fox that leaped from the tip of my wand I knew what my new happy thought was. A thought that I probably wouldn't have even stopped to think about before.

"They're so pretty!" I squealed and immediately the lean, silver fox dissolved into a fine dust, leaving me standing there a bit more solemn than when I started. Harry just laughed.

"They're not supposed to be pretty, Andy," he used a tone that made me raise my eyebrows. "They're supposed to protect you."

"I'm not the one to be telling," I said, leaning. "I'm only quoting Ms. Airhead over there."

Harry jabbed me lightly in the ribs with his elbow. "Cho is not that much of an airhead. You're just saying that because you're jealous."

"No, I am_ not_!" I said a bit too quickly. Harry laughed again and he walked away before I could think of a clever comeback. Rigidly, I waved my wand again, but the stick gave only a little puff of silver smoke. I gave up for the moment with a sigh.

"What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I learned. I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a dementor – " Harry's voice carried across the room as if he were speaking into a microphone.

"But that would be scary!" said Lavender, who was shooting ribbons of silver vapor from the end of her wand. "And I still – can't – do it!" she added angrily, jabbing her wand into the air each time she paused. Neville was having trouble too. His face screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," I reminded him.

"I'm trying, really," he said miserably. He was trying so hard his round face was actually shinning with sweat.

"Harry, I'm actually doing it!" yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first D.A. meeting by Dean. "Look – ah – it's gone . . . But it was definitely hairy, Harry!"

Hermione's Patronus, a shinning silver otter, whizzed past me, swimming through the air as if it were water.

"They _are_ sort of nice, aren't they?" she said, never taking her eyes off the darting silver shadow.

That's when the Room of Requirement door opened and closed quickly. Across the room, Harry looked around to see who had entered, but most of us couldn't see anybody there. It took me a moment to realize the people closest to the door had fallen silent. Suddenly, something small with what looked like a jumble of badly knitted socks ran forward.

"Hi, Dobby!" Harry said as he noticed the elf tugging at his robes near the knee. But that's when I noticed Dobby's eyes were wide and full of terror, his hands shaking. I had seen Dobby a couple times before (I am not going to replay the first . . . that was embarrassing) but never before did he look the way he did now. The room had fallen completely silent now and the last of the Patronuses faded away into a silver mist, leaving the room much darker than before.

"Harry Potter, sir," the elf squeaked, trembling from head to foot. "Harry Potter sir . . . Dobby has come to warn you . . . but the house-elves have been warned not to tell . . ."

He ran headfirst into the wall. Harry ran to catch him, but Dobby merely bounced off the wall, cushioned by the wad of wool on his head. Hermione and a few other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

"What's happened Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything that which he might seek to hurt himself.

"Harry Potter . . . she . . . she . . . " Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist.

"Who is 'she', Dobby?" Harry seized the other fist with one hand.

I had totally forgotten; my body froze with fear. She was coming. I didn't warn them. And I had known this was going to happen. A curse flew out of my lips before I could stop myself. Harry and most of the D.A. turned around.

"Harry! He means Umbridge! She's found out and she's coming _now_!" I yelled, horrified.

Dobby nodded in Harry's arms, attempting to bang his head on Harry's knee. Harry stood, looking around at the motionless people staring at the thrashing elf.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "_RUN_!"

Everyone pelted for the door at once. I hoped they didn't have the sense to make it all the way to their dormitories. It was only ten to nine, if they just took refuge in the library or the Owlrey, which were both nearer –

"Andy, come on!" Harry broke my train of thought, yelling from the center of the knot of people now fighting to get out. He had Dobby in his arms, who was still trying to cause himself serious harm by poking himself in the eye with student's wands. I caught up and pushed myself past Neville, who ran off towards the library, as Harry set Dobby down.

"Dobby – this is an order – get back down to the kitchen with the other elves, and if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no! And I forbid you to hurt yourself!" Harry added, pushing him away as the door slammed behind us.

"Thank you, Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, and streaked off.

"_Move_." I grabbed Harry's hand as we sprinted down the hallway. The others were moving so fast that I only caught the slight glimpse of their heels as they flew around the corner, but Harry suddenly yanked me to the right. I stumbled along until I regained my lost footing and realized he was pulling me towards the boy's bathroom. He could pretend that he had been in there the entire time and I'd make myself disappear in a stall or something. The sounds of other footsteps faded until I could only hear our own as we belted for the door . . . we were going to make it –

"AARGH!"

Suddenly Harry was gone. I whirled around just in time to see him slide to a stop on his stomach, Malfoy's blonde hair flashing behind an ugly, dragon-shaped vase.

"Trip Jinx, Potter!" He said with triumph. "Hey, Professor – _PROFESSOR_! I've got one!"

I started to turn back. Harry rolled onto his back as Malfoy stood, his grey eyes flashing as he caught sight of me at the end of the hall.

"Go!" Harry yelled at me and I was more than happy to listen, twisting on my heel faster than I had ever thought myself possible.

"There's another one! Catch her!" Malfoy shouted, his voice echoing off the high walls. I willed myself to run faster. Umbridge was already at the other end of the hallway. I stepped aside as Malfoy shot a jinx in my direction, taking chase now that Umbridge had gotten to Harry. He was gaining fast. My breath was ragged but the adrenaline that pumped through my veins pushed me forward. I was so close to the corner. I could lose him quickly. _Don't you dare fall, Andrea._ But what came next was worse than falling. I stepped around the corner to have a wand at my throat. I stopped so suddenly I fell back to the ground, my head smacking against the stone floor. Pansy Parkinson stood over me, her heavy, black hair swaying. Something sharp slashed across the side of my forehead and I gasped, bringing my hands to my face.

"I got her, Draco!" she said as footsteps rounded the corner. I groaned, trying to roll to my feet. A foot was suddenly at my side, pressing me back into the floor.

"Not so fast, Goodrich," Malfoy sneered. Something wet dripped into my eyes as he yanked me to my feet, dragging me by my arm back down the hallway.

"Another one, Professor." Pansy trotted beside Malfoy, her could-be-pretty face pulled into some type of sneering smile.

"Good, Draco, good!" Umbridge had Harry by the arm. He probably could have gotten away if he wanted to. That is, until I saw the thick line of brown wood in her large hands. I swayed slightly, my vision cloudy, but Malfoy's grip on my forearm seemed to cut through my skin.

"What did you do to her?" That was Harry, and I could tell from the tone of his voice he was using everything in his power to keep himself from attacking Malfoy again.

"Hold it, Potter." I could tell Malfoy was smiling. "She just hit her head. She's fine." I wanted to tell him that what he had said seemed like the stupidest comment in the world; people died from hitting their heads too hard. But my tongue couldn't seem to form the words.

"Fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take it from here, Draco. You hop along and see if you can round up anymore of them."

Malfoy's hand disappeared from my arm and someone caught me. It was only then I realized I had almost fallen to the floor. Harry helped me to my feet and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I could see now, but I didn't dare look down. I knew what it was that covered the back of my palms; I recognized the smell. I didn't like to even think about the stuff, it made me sick.

"I'm fine," I told Harry unconvincingly. Pansy was also gone and with a sickening jolt I saw the top of her black head disappear into the Room of Requirement door that was now open at the end of the hall.

"You both can come with me to the headmaster's office," Umbridge pointed her wand at Harry's chest. Harry hesitated, his expression lethal as he helped me to me feet. Umbridge stepped forward, jutting outwards with her wand in a threatening movement. Using Harry to lean on, we started walking. My head had started to stop throbbing by the time we had reached the Room of Requirement again. I cringed as I heard Pansy's yell of happiness from inside, knowing exactly what she had found. She came running out, in her fist a piece of paper I did not want to look at. Umbridge waved her wand threateningly and we stopped.

"Harry, she can't know." I was speaking fast and low. Harry wouldn't let go of me, maybe afraid I was going to fall again. Both of his arms were around my torso and he braced by body weight against him. My head was no longer swimming but I didn't want to move even if I could have.

"What?" he whispered in my ear. His face was contorted with pain and anger as he watched Umbridge's ugly face as she smiled immorally.

"Play dumb." That was all I was able to say before she was upon us again, prodding her wand into Harry's back. Was it even legal to even point that thing at students? I doubted it highly.

We were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. I wondered how many of the others had been caught. I thought of Ron – Mrs. Weasley would kill him – and of how Hermione would feel if she was expelled before she could take her O.W.L.s. And it had been Seamus's first meeting . . . and Neville had been getting so much better . . . but I remembered none of them had been found by Malfoy and his friends. At least not yet.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Umbridge practically sang the words as the stone gargoyle jumped aside and the moving staircase was visible. The polished door with the griffin knocker was the same as ever, but I couldn't help but remembering my last visit to the headmaster's office. But Umbridge didn't even bother to knock, striding past us on her short feet and bursting through the door, pulling us inside by the collar of Harry's robe.

The office was full of people. All the wrong people, I realized. Dumbledore was behind his desk as usual but it was the men in front of him that gave me chills; Cornelius Fudge, whom I recognized from an old picture in the _Daily Prophet_, Percy Weasley (I guessed from his hair and the quill and paper in his hand) and Kingsley Shacklebolt. A man positioned like a guard at the door of the office was a wizard I didn't know. Kingsley and Percy were pretty much harmless to me though; I knew Shacklebolt could kick ass if he wanted to, but at least he was on the right side. It was Fudge and Umbridge together in the same room that made me nervous. All the portraits were awake, staring at us, alert and serious. A few were flitting between paintings to whisper things in a neighbor's ear. Harry yanked himself away from Umbridge, pulling me with him into the far corner. I tried to wipe my face up with the sleeve of my robes. Why was it when I was ever in front of people I was either in my nightgown or covered in blood of some sort? Harry adjusted his grip around my waist, lifting his hand to turn my face to the side so he could peer at my forehead.

"I'm going to kill Malfoy."

"Well," I moved his hand with my own so I could look at him. "It wasn't exactly his fault this time, surprisingly. Pansy knocked me down."

"I'm going to kill Pansy." Harry's face was impassive to my joking tone.

"Well, well, well . . . " Fudge was staring at Harry with a kind of vicious satisfaction. Harry turned to stare at him slowly, silent.

"He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower," Umbridge said, excitement clearly present in her voice. "The Malfoy boy cornered him and the girl." She flicked her stout hand in our direction. I noted how she had never given Pansy any thanks, even if it sounded stupid at the moment.

"Did he, did he?" Fudge said appreciatively. "I must remember to tell Lucius." He finally seemed to notice me. "What happened to you, girl?"

I didn't like the man anyway, and the way he addressed me didn't _catch my fancy_, so to say. "The precious Malfoy boy. Remember to tell Lucius that too." Fudge glared at me, but I wasn't the thing that held his attention; Harry was. He turned away quickly.

"Well, Potter . . . I expect you know why you are here?"

I knew what Harry was going to answer with. Quickly, I elbowed him in the ribs at the same time I knew Dumbledore was secretly hinting Harry from across the room.

"Yeh – no"

Harry changed direction in mid-word. He had caught Dumbledore's shake of the head, no matter how slight it had been. Not counting the fact I had nudged him hard enough to leave a bruise.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry said firmly.

"You _don't_ know why you're here?"

"No clue," Harry said with a bit of unnecessary attitude that got him another poke in the ribs. He gripped my waist even tighter.

Fudge was looking between Harry and Umbridge. I took it as a chance to steal a glance at Dumbledore, who gave the tiniest of a nod and the shadow of a wink.

"So you have no idea," Fudge said in a voice that was sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" Harry said, thankfully dropping the cocky act. "No."

"Or Ministry decrees?" Fudge was angry now.

"Not that I'm aware of," Harry said.

"So it is news to you, is it," Fudge's voice was now thick with the emotion, "that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes, it is."

"I think, Minister," Umbridge practically cooed beside him, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant?"

"Yes, yes, do," Fudge nodded. "There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?" He added maliciously as Umbridge left the room.

"Nothing at all, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, inclining his head.

It was silent for several minutes. I was tempted to whisper something to Harry but thought better against it, aware of the eyes that were always darting in our corner. My head was starting to feel light again and I rested the side of my forehead that wasn't covered in blood against his neck. I must have scraped it on something when Pansy tripped me, but I was just happy it wasn't from knocking my head into the floor; I hadn't hit it hard enough to cause a concussion or anything, but that wasn't stopping it from throbbing. It was too soon Umbridge came back again, holding Cho's friend Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands.

"Don't be scared, dear," Umbridge said softly, patting her on the back. "It's quite alright now. You have done the right thing. The minister is very pleased of you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister," she added, looking up at Fudge, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation. Floo Network office – she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."

"Jolly good!" Fudge said in such a thick, stupidly cheery British accent that made me think of the only reason someone wouldn't find it attractive. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on now, dear, look up, don't be shy; let's hear what you've got to – _hopping hippogriffs!_"

As Marietta raised her head, Fudge had jumped backwards so far he had nearly landed in the fireplace. He cursed and stamped out the hem of his robe, which had started to smoke, and Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes up to her eyes. But not before everyone in the room had seen her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word "SNEAK". I praised Hermione's jinxing ability, remembering back to the night she had been pouring over the list thinking of ways to keep the club a secret.

"Never mind the spots now, dear," Umbridge attempted to get the robes away from Marietta's mouth. "Just tell the Minister – " She was cut off as Marietta wailed again, shaking her head frantically.

"Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," Umbridge snapped. She hitched her sickly smile back onto her face and went into the long monologue of lies I had read many times before. I zoned out for a moment and, by the time I turned back to listen, she was thankfully almost done.

". . . I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this hex," she waved towards Marietta's concealed face, "came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me anymore," she finished with some sort of strange sigh.

"Well, now, that was very brave of you," Fudge said. "Now will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?"

Marietta would not speak. She merely shook her head again.

"Haven't we got a counterjinx for this?" he asked Umbridge impatiently. "So she can speak freely?"

"I have not managed to find one," Umbridge admitted and I felt another swell of pride for Hermione, knowing Harry was too.

"But it doesn't matter," Umbridge said. "I can take it from here."

To my horror, she withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall, retrieved by the lovely Pansy Parkinson (who I wanted so bad to just strangle at that moment) and handed it to Fudge.

"The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with," she said softly.

"Excellent," he said, but stopped as his eyes caught something on the paper. "And . . . by thunder. . . ." He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still sitting, his wand held loosely in the hand that rested upon the wood of his armrest.

"See what they've named themselves?" Fudge said quietly. "_Dumbledore's Army_." The Minister of Magic slammed the paper upon Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling.

"Well, the game is up," he said simply. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius – or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

Harry gave me a quick look. He didn't know what the headmaster was getting at. Neither did Fudge.

"Statement?" the Minister said slowly. "What – I don't – ?"

"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, though he was still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face, getting to his feet for the first time. "Not Potter's Army. _Dumbledore's Army_."

"You?" Fudge gave a gasp.

"That's right," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"You organized this?"

"I did," Dumbledore said calmly.

"You recruited these students for – for your army?"

"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting. Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course."

"Then you _have_ been plotting against me!" Fudge yelled.

"That's right," said Dumbledore cheerfully. I resisted the urge to smile.

Harry tensed, opening his mouth to object. Reaching up quickly, I pressed my hand over his lips. Harry started, looking at me in alarm. I only shook my head, motioning for him to keep quiet. Everyone was looking a Dumbledore, except Kingsley, who only gave us a warning glance.

"I came here to expecting to expel Potter and instead – " Fudge was seething with excitement. Umbridge looked _really_ creepy next to him, like a salivating dog.

"Instead you get to arrest me," said Dumbledore smiling. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"

"Very well then," Fudge was clearly radiant with glee. "You will be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await trail!"

Harry shook his head vehemently and I pulled my hand away. No one had even noticed our little exchange. "_Andy, what are you doing_?" Harry hissed.

"Ah," Dumbledore said gently. "Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag."

"Snag?" Fudge's voice was still vibrating with joy. "I see no snag!"

"Well," Dumbledore said almost apologetically, "I'm afraid I do. Well, you seem to think that I'm going to – what's the phrase? 'Come quietly'. I am afraid I am not going to come at all, for Cornelius, I have no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course – but that would be a waste a time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I'd rather be doing. "

Umbridge's face was growing redder by the second and Fudge stared a Dumbledore with a stupid expression on his face. Percy was still standing in the corner, a splotch of ink on his nose from taking notes so fast throughout the conversation. Fudge seemed to regain his composure and nodded to the grey haired man at the door. The man slowly reached for his pocket.

"Don't be silly, Dawlish," Dumbledore said kindly. "I'm sure you're an excellent Auror, but if you attempt to – er – 'bring me in' by force, I will have to hurt you." The man called Dawlish blinked, giving him a rather foolish look.

"So," sneered Fudge, "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handed?"

"Merlin's beard, no," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."

"Enough of this rubbish," Fudge withdrew his own wand. "_Take him_!"

There was a bang like a gunshot and a streak of silver light around the room. Fawkes screeched and several of the portraits yelled. Knowing what had been about to happen, I had quickly pulled myself out of Harry's arms and reached for Marietta and yanked her to the floor. I pulled Harry down with me, grabbing onto the back of his neck and pulling his head down as three more bangs sounded. The sounds echoed as spells ricocheted off the walls and I pressed my face into Harry's shoulder, slightly aware of his arms around my head. The room grew silent just as quickly as the attack had begun. Coughing, I pushed myself off of Harry and stood, bracing my weight against the bookshelf behind me. Harry was upon me in a second. "Andy, _what happened?_"

I didn't answer, for Dumbledore was already walking towards us. The room was a mess. His desk had been overturned and all the trinkets knocked to the floor. Fudge, Umbridge, Dawlish, Percy, and Kingsley lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes soared above them in wide circles, singing softly.

"I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked suspicious," Dumbledore said in a low voice.

"Where will you go?" Harry said, his eyes wide as he took in everything around us. His arms were back around my waist, pulling me to him as if it would protect me. "Grimmauld place?"

"Oh no," he said with a grim smile. "I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he never dislodge me from Hogwarts, I promise you . . ." Dumbledore turned to me and I felt myself blush under his direct gaze "I do say, Miss Goodrich, you have quite a talent of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Professor Dumbledore . . . " Harry began.

"Listen to me, Harry," Dumbledore spoke quickly for Dawlish was already starting to stir. "Practice you're Occlumency with Professor Snape and do whatever he tells you to – you must promise me – Remember – close your mind – " Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist.

But as his fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pain shot through my head that wasn't from the tumble onto the stone floor. I felt the terrible, snake-like longing that Harry had felt once before when Mr. Weasley had been attacked. When he and Dumbledore had made eye contact. To bite him. To hurt him.

"– you will understand," Dumbledore whispered.

Fawkes stopped circling the office and swooped over us. Dumbledore raised his hand and grasped the phoenix's long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them was gone.

"Where is he?" Dumbledore had just given himself barely enough time for Fudge stood at that moment, his wand upright. "_Where is he_?"

"I don't know!" Kingsley shouted, leaping to his feet.

"Well, he can't have Disapperated!" cried Umbridge. "You can't inside this school!"

"The stairs!" cried Dawlish and he flung himself into the door, wrenching it open and disappearing with Kingsley and Umbridge. Fudge hesitated, glaring at Harry.

"Well, Potter," said Fudge so nastily I wanted to slap him. "I'm afraid this is the end of your Professor Dumbledore."

"You think so, do you?" I said in a tone just as rude. He glared again before following everyone else out the door, Percy at his heels like a puppy dog. I turned to Harry, who had a look of confusion, surprise, and hatred all upon his face at once.

"You know," I heard a voice behind us and we turned to see a man in a portrait that I could guess correctly as the infamous Phineas Nigellus. "I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts . . . but you can't deny he's got style . . ."


	23. The Rise of the Wizard Wheezes

_**BY ORDER OF**_

_THE MINISTY OF MAGIC_

_**Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**_

_The above is in accordance with_

_Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight._

_**Signed:**_

_Cornelius Oswald Fudge_

_**MINISTER OF MAGIC**_

"Rubbish. It's all bloody rubbish," Ron mumbled underneath his breath as we passed the fifteenth sign on the way to the library.

Pretty much the entire school knew that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant (I'd guessed Percy, knowing he'd be the only one wanting to live up to a title like that) to escape. Every conversation was on the topic of Dumbledore's flight. But some of it had gone astray, if you know what I mean. Harry overheard a second-year girl retelling her friend how she had heard that Fudge was now lying in St. Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head. I had laughed so hard when he had run down the stairs that morning to tell us, despite how serious he had wanted the situation to be.

"Dumbledore will be back before long."

We were talking to Ernie Macmillan in the back corner behind a large shelve of leather bound novels. Or better make that everyone but me was talking to Ernie in the library. Not because I didn't like him or anything, but I was in a library. And that meant I was respectfully peering at each spine that looked back at me from the many shelves in that one corner, finally content for once in weeks. Harry shot me a strange look from over by the round table where he, Hermione, Ron and Ernie sat. I must have looked strange, mumbling to myself in disbelief in realizing half of the books were over decades all in a first or second edition. Only Hermione shared the fascination with me until Ron shouted at us after many minutes of our odd staring and awes. She had taken the place beside Ron though I had only raised my eyebrows in a face that said _'you really want to do that?'_.

"Don't mess with me when I'm in a library." I was being completely serious behind the humor of the sentence.

"Told you I liked her," Hermione said to particularly no one, but Harry cracked a smile.

"They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me . . . " he dropped his voice so low I had to step forward to hear his whisper, returning to the topic of Dumbledore. " . . . that Umbridge tried to get back into his office the night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself off against her," Ernie smirked. "Apparently she had a right little tantrum . . . "

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office," Hermione said viciously, leaning forward on her elbows. "Loading it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old – "

"Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?"

I was learning to hate that voice. Fact, I already hated the person whom it belonged to without a doubt.

"Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," Malfoy drawled as he stepped out from behind another shelf in the labyrinth of Hogwarts's library. Why did he always have to show up at the worst times?

"Only teachers that can dock points from Houses, Malfoy. Not prefects," Ernie shot back quickly.

"I know prefects can't dock points," Malfoy sneered, but he paused before continuing. "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad –"

"The _what_?" Hermione said sharply.

"A cult of suck-up Slytherin students who have nothing better to do with their lives than play teacher's pet." I had my eyes trained on a book in my hands but sensed everyone turn towards me. "Hand-picked from the puffed-up, power-crazy old hag herself to do her evil biddings. Almost like her own little snake spies. It fits, doesn't it?"

I slid the book back in its place before finally turning around. Harry was staring at me in the same way he always did when I went on one of my rants that always got me into even more trouble than if I had just kept my trap shut. Hermione looked delighted I had finished her sentence in the presence of Malfoy, who was all but having smoke pour out his ears. But I wasn't done.

"Hand-picked snakes that support the Ministry of Magic. But you don't really fit that description, Malfoy? Or should I go phone Voldemort and he'll personally send your precious daddy up here to vouch for you?"

Ernie looked as if he had been Petrified. Or as close as one living being could get to look like they had been caught by Medusa without sunglasses on. Hermione had a hand slapped over her own mouth at first which I thought was out of horror but the closer I looked I noted she was clearly laughing. But both Harry and Ron didn't hide their reaction too well. Ron gave a sort of odd choking sound while Harry, fully understanding what I had been saying more than the others, burst out so loud that a few students nearby stared. Ron suddenly paused, turning his face away from Malfoy but to where I could still understand what he was saying. Though I doubted he knew.

"What's a 'go-phone'?" The question only made Harry roar with laughter even harder.

"Twenty, thanks to Goodrich with the smart mouth over there," Malfoy finally said slowly and not fully after he lost the expression of wanting to attack me. But he took the insult more calmly than I had expected, turning to face Ernie. ". . . Five for contradicting me . . . Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude to the headmistress . . . ten because I don't like you, Potter . . . Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five . . . Oh, yeah, I forgot, Granger. You're a Mudblood, so I'll take another five for that."

Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering: "Don't!"

"Smart move, Granger," Malfoy sneered. He glanced up one last time, his eyes like silver daggers, before stalking away behind more of the bookcases, Crabbe managing to make a pile of books on a nearby table collapse. Though it wasn't unintended, because the stupid sniggers that were left behind them made a young third year Ravenclaw shout, her blonde hair peeking through the gaps of checked-out books. Her face flushed a delicate pink as Goyle's heavy steps finally ceased echoing. Hermione sighed, pushing herself out of her chair to go help the poor girl who was now on her hands and knees trying to gather the scatter of pages.

"He's a right foul git," Ron mumbled under his breath, gazing back over his shoulder towards Hermione.

"He was bluffing," said Ernie, looking appalled. "He can't be allowed to dock points . . . that would be ridiculous . . . It would completely undermine the prefect system . . . "

But when we entered the Great Hall only twenty minutes later, the four giant hourglasses set in niches along the wall behind the staff table were sure enough shrinking dramatically. Or at least all but the emerald-filled one, which now towered over the rubies and sapphires that had only been neck and neck that morning. They were now just scratching to keep their glasses from becoming empty.

"Noticed, have you?" That was Fred's voice. Or George. I was still slowly learning how to determine the exact distinction between the two twins. But that wasn't the problem. They weren't just twins; they were like clones of the other. If one was alone, it was almost impossible to tell the difference. Fred was just ever slightly taller and I had always pictured him slightly more mature looking. George had a small scar on his neck from his old childhood spin with a Cleansweep. Other than that, I was stumped. But they were together this time, and it had been Fred whom had spoken.

"Malfoy just docked us all about sixty points!" Harry said furiously. As he spoke, more precious stones flew upward and dissolved away. Gryffindor was slipping slowly into the double digits while Slytherin was soaring into the hundreds.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George.

"Wait, tried?" My eyebrows shot up.

Fred gave me a too famous mischievous smile. "He never managed to get all the words out due to the fact we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Harry and Ron laughed while I gave something between a gasp and a giggle. The twins were major jokesters but I knew never to get into a war with them. At least not on the wrong side. Hermione looked shocked.

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!"

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks cause I dunno where we sent him," Fred spoke coolly that the safety of the Slytherin didn't even matter. Well, the boy _was_ a jerk anyway. I couldn't say he didn't deserve what he had gotten.

"Anyway . . . we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" asked Hermione.

"Course we have," George said. "Never gotten expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line at," Fred added.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally, but we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," George finished.

"But now?" Ron said tentatively.

"Well, now with Dumbledore gone – " said Fred.

"– we reckon a bit of mayhem is exactly what our new dear Head deserves," George said.

"You really mustn't," Hermione was whispering as if she was apprehensive of Malfoy showing up again. "She'd have a reason to expel you!"

"That's what they want, Hermione," I said with a slight smile, draping my arm causally around her shoulders as she gaped at me.

"There's a smart one for you Hermione, I'd watch out," Fred said in passing as he brushed past us. He stopped twice, the first time to ruffle Ron's hair only to watch him blush like a human beet. Then George turned around, a look on his face that made my blood run colder. It wasn't an evil look, but it was the ones only the twins could give.

"I'd get out of here soon, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it. Phase one is about to begin."

"Anything to do with what?" Hermione asked anxiously, stepping forward.

"Let's go, _now_." I pulled her around and back out through the large doors that lead into the main entryway. She didn't resist, sighing in either defeat or pity. Defeat that she wasn't giving up to her prefect status, or pity towards the two boys who were about to do something so incredibly stupid. Ron and Harry were following behind; Ron was jabbering on about what Fred and George could possibly come up with in worst-case scenario type fashion when suddenly it was relatively quiet. Ron's hand was on my shoulder the same moment that I noticed Harry was gone.

"Where'd he go?"

His expression wasn't exactly promising. "Filch came up. Umbridge wants to see him."

"_What_?"

"I know. Whatever it is, it's not good."

That's when the fireworks went off.

…

"Montague's just been found in a toilet, sir."

Hermione had to yank me back around the corner to keep Snape from hearing my laughter. It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard in the world, but even Snape's presence that didn't stop me from doubling over in giggles. After Snape had disappeared with the other Slytherin who had told him the important news, even Hermione had cracked a smile.

Harry didn't return until Fred and George's prank had circulated around the school like wildfire.

"What did she want?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno exactly. She asked me about Padfoot though."

I made sure I _wasn't_ listening when he spoke hurriedly to Ron and Hermione over lunch. It was so tiresome, acting like I didn't know whom they were talking about.

"But the strangest thing was she asked me if I wanted something to drink," Harry said and nodded at Ron's horrified reaction.

"You didn't right?" I whirled around quickly and Harry paused, startled.

"No," he said slowly, "she was acting funny."

"You don't reckon she poisoned it?" Ron gasped.

"No," Harry said again, "she didn't poison it, but she definitely put something in it before she gave it to me."

It had been a bit of a pity that Harry hadn't been present when the fireworks had been lit. And these things made the finale on the Fourth of July in New York City look like child's play. Dragons comprised entirely of green-and-gold sparks had been soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter had gone whizzing lethally through the air like a army of flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stares had ricocheted off the walls. Sparklers had written swearwords in midair on their own accord and firecrackers had been going off like mines everywhere. In fact, they were still going off every once in a while well through the afternoon. And it had all gotten better once Umbridge and Filch had shown up at the scene, drawn like a pair of moths. A Catherine wheel had dived at them with a sinister _wheeeeeeee_ and both adults had yelled with fright and ducked as it soared straight out the window behind them and off across the grounds. A pair of dragons had taken advantage of the open doors that stood wide for the passing of classes and escaped into the courtyard.

"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" Umbridge had shrieked. It had been hysterical to watch her run in circles, wand raised and yelling at each enchanted firework. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something – _Stupefy!_"

But that had been the wrong thing to do. Instead of freezing in midair, the rocket she had been aiming at had exploded with such a force that it had blasted a hole into a painting of a sloppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow – she had escaped just in time, reappearing seconds later into the painting next door.

"Impressive," I had said quietly when I passed the twins in the hallway on the way to Transfiguration. They were laughing so hard from watching Umbridge battle the fireworks that tears were streaming down their faces "Very impressive. . . . "

"Cheers," George had said back, wiping his face. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing some soon . . . They multiply by ten every time you try . . ."

Umbridge and Filch had done absolutely nothing in stopping the fireworks and they eventually spread all over the school, causing plenty of disruption as they continued to burn. But the teachers didn't seem to mind them very much.

"Dear, dear," Professor McGonagall said sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"

But then it started to get even better. Umbridge was running all over the school, answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. It was when we were in Charms that I almost got myself in trouble by laughing too loudly at Professor Flitwick's remark.

"Thank you so much, Professor," he said with his squeaky voice. "I could have gotten rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure I had the _authority_ . . ."

I almost died at her snarling face, doubling over. Harry had to slap his hand over my mouth. After dinner, even Hermione fought her way through the congratulating crowds that surrounded the twins in the common room.

"They were wonderful fireworks," she said admiringly.

"Thanks," George beamed, looking both surprised and pleased. "Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock so we're going to have to start again from scratch now. . . "

"It was worth it, though," said Fred, who was taking purchasing orders for the fireworks. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe . . ."

Harry and I didn't risk taking a stroll that night, knowing that Umbridge could be lurking anywhere there was fireworks, which was everywhere. In the common room, the bangs were audible from above the lake. Through the window, a sparkler floated up past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word _POO_. We were all getting ready to go to bed when suddenly there was a bang loud enough to vibrate through the walls and Seamus, who had been closest to the window gasped .

"Cool!" he shouted, pressing his face up against the glace as everyone crowed around him. "I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!"

I don't think I'd ever seen Ron move faster other than for food as he scrambled out of his seat and towards the window. Hermione rolled her eyes before disappearing up the staircase to our dormitory. I was about to follow her, secretly wanting to know what a Catherine wheel and a rocket would look like if they exploded together, when there was a hand on my arm.

"Hey," Harry let go of my elbow, but didn't pull away. "Be at the lake tomorrow by seven."

He didn't give me any time to retaliate before he disappeared up the boy's staircase, turning around once to smile.


	24. Answers

I was almost late.

One would think that when Harry Potter had asked to meet me, alone, at the edge of the lake (secretly, I might add) that I would be up at least an hour early to make myself look nice. But I would be lying if I said that was what happened. I had assumed he had meant seven in the morning. If he had been talking about something after supper later tonight, there was really no way I would have known. But if I were to ask someone to go somewhere at night, I would have specified or asked the day of. Then again, Harry and Ron sometimes shared too many qualities. And Ron confused me at least once every single day. Worst thing I could do was show up _twelve_ hours early. A good conversation starter for later, right?

It was starting to become harder to pull myself out of bed every morning. It was awful, studying for the O.W.L.s Hermione insisted that I should keep my nose in the books the longest, since my magical skills weren't as strong as the rest of them. Sure, I can say I wasn't bad, but I was still struggling with simple Charms. Like it was my fault that I hadn't been practicing as long as them. The time I had ever conjured up a spell for the first time was less than even a year ago, and I thought I was doing pretty well considering.

I yanked the covers off of me, hopping to the door after stubbing my toe into the solid trunk at the foot of my bed. I bit back a curse, grabbing my clothes and dashing for the bathroom as quietly as I could. It was early for the weekend and even Hermione was still sleeping, Crookshanks raising his squished head from the jumble of sheets and covers as I moved about the room. The bathroom was empty, the cold tile floor chilling my bare feet. I dashed around as quickly as I could, tearing a brush through my tangled locks. I changed out of my pajamas slower, not wanting to trip and hit my head after I had already gotten one of my legs tangled in my jeans the day before. I wanted to thank whoever had the idea to put normal-looking clothes in my trunk, for I knew I wouldn't have had the thought. How nerdy and strange would I have looked if all I had was my uniform to wear all day ever day? Pausing to look down at my watch with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, I saw that I had ten minutes. It would take me at least five to get out of the castle and onto the grounds. I pulled a shirt messily over my head, also throwing my pajamas into a corner in one fluid movement. I was out of the common room in record time, practically jumping over the loveseat in the common room before sprinting through the castle the before the Fat Lady had even opened the portrait door entirely. The cold air hit me like a wall, knocking away the breath in my lungs. It had long been snow-free, but England weather seemed to have a talent for retaining the chill of winter. It was refreshing nevertheless, and I found a sudden surge of adrenaline as the wooden boards that were the bridge seemed to fly underneath me.

He was already there, his back to me as he leaned against a giant oak that gazed out over the glimmering water. I could see his dark head contrasting brilliantly against the golden sunrise, the furious ball of light making the water glisten like sparkling glass. The lake itself was beautiful, the sun casting spectacular colors across the smooth surface. It appeared so peaceful, so vulnerable, the unbroken surface bottomless, as if one small pebble would mar its beauty. Anyone would be able to deduce that I was head-over-heels in love if I had started to debate with myself on the topic of what made my heart skip the most; the breathtaking frosty mountain scene or Harry himself. I would have been struck by Zeus's lighting bolt if I would have said I had never been attracted to him, not that it was too hard to admit. But I know I, in all of my life, had never felt the true, infamous emotion called love. I was fifteen for goodness-sakes; I wasn't even able to drive without parental supervision back home. But, for some reason, I wasn't really caring as I my eyes rested upon the top of his ebony hair, eventually grazing embarrassingly lower, taking in his stature. I couldn't help thinking how rare his features were, like ruins in the middle of Amazon. Not non-existent, but worth the time spent looking for it.

Harry turned at the sound of my footsteps, his smile as bright as the horizon behind him. The roots and grasses seemed to reach for me, snagging my shoes and the hems of my jeans. I attempted to appear somewhat graceful but, with him watching me so closely, all bets were off.

"Hullo."

His accent seemed thicker than usual and my knees immediately went weak. I leaned my shoulder nonchalantly against the rough bark of the tree beside him, fearing that the numbing sensation in the pit of my stomach would soon spread and I'd find myself with a mouthful of dirt.

"Hi," I practically choked out. It wasn't like being alone with Harry was anything new. Being with him made me turn into one of those sappy romance activists; the ones who believed that the only thing that mattered in the entire story was the two protagonists' chemistry. But I guess it's even sadder that that was the only way I could describe him. But I could tell right off the bat that something was wrong. Beneath his smile, the green eyes that I had fallen head-over-heels for weren't as bright as they were when he usually looked at me. I could say he appeared guarded, tensed. But he didn't hesitate in grabbing my hand before guiding me along the shoreline of the glassy water.

"How long have you been waiting?" I wasn't late by any means, but I was looking at him so closely I had caught the glimmer of frost surrounding the rim of his glasses.

"Not long." I knew he was lying. He had the tendency to over exaggerate his syllables as if he was irritated every time he spoke of a fabrication. I had never made the move to point it out to him yet, mostly enjoying his priceless reaction when I caught him halfway through. But it wasn't like he was the most horrible liar in the world. That award, I must say, would go to Neville or Ron. Like I should have been the one to be thinking about lying. My shoulders sagged at the thought, my eyes fixating on a spot along the horizon. We walked in silent for a few minutes, listening to the breeze rustle through the leaves that swirled in circles around us.

"I have a feeling you didn't ask me to wake up at the crack of dawn for just a leisurely stroll?" I laughed, swinging both of our arms back and forth as I balanced myself on a large root protruding a few feet off the ground. Harry laughed, lifting his arm that was still connected to mine as I teetered on the root a bit longer before jumping to the soft ground in front of him.

"You are quite a mood today," Harry smiled as we walked farther away from the castle and deeper into the edges of the Forbidden Forest.

"I have my reasons," I said slyly, stealing a quick glance in his direction through my eyelashes. Harry smiled again but this time turned away quickly, hiding his face.

"I've been wanting to tell you something."

It wasn't what he had said, it was the way he had said it. I stopped in my tracks, our hands hanging in a limp grasp between us. He was still looking out over the water; I was only able to gaze at the back of his head.

"It's . . . " He paused, his shoulders tensing. I couldn't move, couldn't speak. I was scared that anything I said would be the wrong thing. Harry was clearly unnerved, and I didn't know why. I squeezed his hand gently, pleading silently for him to look at me.

"I've . . . never actually told you about my family," he finally turned, but his expression was stony.

Actually, we never spoke about our families. Harry knew it was just as a touchy subject with me as it was with him and had only brought it up once since the incident at the Shrieking Shack. Sure, I spoke of a past I had never lived that had a father figure who resembled my own, but never had I shared to anyone anything beyond my fabrication.

"Y - you know how Umbridge went through my letters a while ago?" He waited for me to nod before continuing. "Well, she . . . she knew I had been contacting my godfather."

Harry turned away again, clearly distressed. I finally realized what he was trying to tell me, the adrenaline that had begun rushing through my veins settling down. I had to hold back a sigh of relief. But watching Harry stumble over his words made me nervous, his skin practically glowing in the golden rays of the sun.

"Godfather?" I didn't know if it was safe to say anything, but asking a question didn't seem too harmful. It would make it look like I was completely in the dark on the subject. Or at least I hoped. Harry jerked his head quickly in what I guessed was a nod.

"My godfather . . ." He stopped, both physically and in his train of thought, to turn back and look at me. "Sirius Black is my godfather."

He said it so fast I barely understood a word, almost like a string of mumbling nonsense. But Harry froze, his hand tightening around my fingers like I would yank myself away with disgust.

"The man who broke out of Azkaban?" I spoke slowly, never looking away from his face. Harry was still nervous, appearing desperate to break out eye contact, but unable to glance away.

"Yes," he whispered.

I paused for a moment. Was he really expecting me to run away in fright? Because I _now_ knew that he was related to an alleged mass-murderer? With my free hand, I reached up to touch the side of his face gently. He didn't flinch, though I felt his jaw clench underneath my palm.

"You trust him." Harry pressed the side of his face lightly into my hand at my words, nodding again. "And I trust you," I smiled reassuringly and the tension that was between us seemed to vanish into thin air as Harry returned the gesture.

"You're not – " I cut him off with a shake of my head, not even wanting to go into the subject.

"Harry," I let my hand slip to grip the top of his shoulder, shaking it slightly, "nobody else can make you who you are. If Jack the Ripper was your brother, I'd still talk to you."

"Not funny," Harry's eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"No, it's not," I cursed myself for rambling again. Sometimes I wondered why I wasn't born with the simple talent to think before one spoke. "But really, Harry, what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"I'm guessing Ron and Hermione already know," I said slowly, saying it in more of a statement rather than a question. "What did they do when you told them? Did they stop talking to you?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I was just really worried about what you would think of me afterwards. You know, there are some really judgmental people out there. And not everyone –"

I laughed lightly before shifting my weight to the balls of my feet to crane my neck up to kiss him full on the lips, interrupting him. Harry responded immediately, his hand that wasn't tangled in mine finding itself against the small of my back. It was the first time we had openly kissed each other since Filch had almost caught us on one of our late night excursions. My knees went weak instantly, every single nerve in my body on fire.

"Well," Harry smiled as he pulled back, not trying to hide the fact that he was slightly out of breath, "neither Ron or Hermione did that."

"I'd hope not."

Harry stared at me for a moment before breaking out into an even wider grin. It was impossible not to smile back; his eyes so bright they were almost as blinding as the sun. Harry leaned forward again, dropping our hands to pull me closer as he kissed me again. I stepped forward eagerly, my mind whirling, only thinking about him. Which means, I missed the thought that reminded me about the giant, protruding root behind him.

By the time we hit the ground I realized we were falling. Harry had been forced to retreat to keep his footing as I had almost launched myself at him, even though we ended up tripping anyway. I landed hard on top of him, Harry's back creating a loud thumping sound as it connected with the ground. I had pulled away in surprise halfway before we had hit the dirt, and the sudden stop in momentum didn't pause as my forehead smacked rather smartly against his nose.

"Ah!" Harry yelped, his hands shooting up to cover his face. I rolled off him quickly, horrified.

"Harry!" I kneeled next to his face, unsure of what to do other than apologize a million times in a row as he rolled onto his side, his face tucked under his arm. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Harry moaned again, but when he turned back to me he was laughing, his right hand still covering his nose.

"Of course you didn't," Harry pushed himself onto one elbow, slowly taking his hand away to observe the damage. I let out a sigh of relief. No blood. "But this would only happen to us." I loved the way he said the last word. It made my heart soar.

"You're not hurt?"

"No," Harry laughed again, "just a bit shocked."

"That was so embarrassing. I'm sorry."

"You should be," Harry smiled, his intense expression already making me blush. "If you hadn't attacked me, we wouldn't have fallen over."

"Attacked you?" I cried. "I didn't attack you!"

"Sure you didn't," Harry grinned mischievously, gazing up at me with glinting eyes.

"Don't flatter yourself," I huffed, turning away and crossing my arms in one fluid motion. Harry chuckled, pausing before he spoke again.

"I ruined the mood, didn't I?"

I didn't answer, afraid to look at him again. Afraid I would give in if I caught one glimpse of his face.

"Andy."

I couldn't stop myself from turning back. Harry had propped himself up against the foot of the tree. He was still smiling, his glasses a bit crooked upon his face. He stared at me a moment longer, his eyes incredible bright, before motioning to the empty spot next to him.

"No." I had to tear myself away. I wanted everything in the world to go over to him, but I still had my dignity.

"Come on, Andy," his voice was low and inviting. I wanted hit myself. He probably wasn't even trying to seduce me and I was already falling helplessly. What was wrong with me?

"No. I am perfectly fine where I – "

His arms were suddenly around me again, and I cried out as he dragged me backwards. I wasn't going to give in, even as he pulled me against him underneath the tree. Struggling was always fruitless, and I chose a different tactic as Harry's face leaned in towards mine. At the last moment, I yanked my head to the side so that he kissed my cheek instead.

"Andy!" Harry was trying to stop laughing, but the attempt was horrible. "Come on! Alright, I'm sorry." Harry was trying to turn me around to face him but I fought, keeping my eyes on the lake. "You won't even look at me?" Harry's voice was next to my ear. "Did I offend you?"

_To heck with it_, I thought.

I reached for the back of his neck, pulling his face down to meet mine. Harry yelped, caught off guard, but tightened his hold around my waist. This time it was me who pulled away, sighing in defeat as I turned back to the beautiful view of the horizon.

"I g-guess not," Harry croaked, taking his hand from my waist to run it through his already messy hair. I smiled, grateful that I could at least make him react like that. We sat there for a moment, my head resting comfortably on his chest. I closed my eyes, feeling as if I was melting against him as his torso rose and fell with each breath. But I didn't miss the fluttering sound that was his heartbeat. It was Harry who spoke first, his words making my blood run cold. It wasn't his fault, I had known that, but I still couldn't bring up the topic without tears.

"Tell me about your family."

I stopped, my limbs tensing in his arms. He wasn't trying to be pressing, but I was surprised and unable to hide my expression. I was just thankful he couldn't see my face.

"My family?" I repeated stupidly. Harry didn't answer, waiting for me to continue as he messed with a lock of my hair, twirling it through his fingers. "Well, um . . . my father loves his work. A little too much, I might add." It was strange talking about my family in the present tense. The entire time, I had been thinking about them in the past, the way they had been before I had left. Or before I was taken. I didn't know which. "But he's a nice man."

"What's he doing now?" Harry asked politely, his breath tickling the top of my head.

"I – I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I haven't heard from him in months."

Harry didn't say anything, a moment of silence passing before I felt his arms snake around my waist again, pulling me even closer to him. I turned my head to lean into the curve of his neck, desperately fighting back tears. I wasn't going to cry in front of him.

We sat there for a least an hour, underneath the shade of the giant oak. Harry let me curl up against him, his arms still wrapped around me. I could have stayed there forever, frozen in time. But all too soon the rest of the castle seemed to wake up and we were forced to return to the Great Hall.

Harry never asked me about my family again.


	25. Swamped

_**Disclaimer: **_**I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

"Harry, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

That seemed to knock him out of it. Harry looked up from the book he had been staring at with glazed eyes in his lap, appearing startled to see Ginny standing in front of him. We were in the library, pouring over old textbooks. Or make that just me. Ginny had walked up to our table moments before and I had held a nice conversation with her until she had asked Harry a question he hadn't replied to.

"Oh hi," Harry nodded, closing his textbook that he had been staring at incomprehensively for the past five minutes. "How come you're not at practice?"

"It's over," Ginny pulled an empty chair from a nearby table and sat down. "Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing."

"Why?"

"Well, we're not sure, but we _think_ he knocked himself out with his own bat." She sighed heavily. "Anyway . . . a package just arrived, it's only just got through Umbridge's new screening process. . .

She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper onto the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly rewrapped, and there was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading INSPECTED AND PASSED BY THE HIGH INQUISITOR.

"It's Easter eggs from my mum," Ginny said, prying open the top flaps. "There's one for you. There you go. . . "

Ginny handed him the most magnificently decorated, edible egg I had ever seen in my life. It was covered in small, iced, golden snitches and, according to the packaging, contained a bag of Fizzing Whizbees in the middle. Harry was quiet for a moment, staring at the egg in his hands.

"Are you ok, Harry?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said roughly.

"You seem really down," Ginny was already stating what I had mentioned hours before. I had given at the moment, realizing Harry was just as content wallowing in his silent self pity together. I already knew what he had been thinking, but I couldn't think of a conversation starter that didn't start off along the lines of 'so I can practically read you mind right now . . . anything you want to tell me about?' Harry hadn't told me anything but the fact that Snape had practically thrown him out of Occlumency; I didn't need to press to know the details.

"You know," Ginny continued, leaning her elbows on the tabletop, "I'm sure if you just _talked_ to Cho . . ."

I knew Ginny was referring to the row the two of them had had a few days before about her sneak of a friend. It was her fault that the D.A. was caught, but Cho, for some reason, wasn't going to blame her. She had blown up in Harry's face defending her traitorous friend which, I guessed, made up for their missed argument that Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade. Most people still thought Harry had a thing for Cho. I didn't mind what other people thought too much, it wasn't like we walked the corridors holding hands and belting show tunes. That is, everyone but Hermione and the twins were in the dark. Well, then again, if the twins knew, then everyone must have known. Except the really thick people.

"It's not Cho I want to talk to," Harry said brusquely.

"Who is it then?" Ginny asked.

"I . . ."

Harry glanced around to make sure that nobody was listening: Madame Pince was several shelves away, stamping out a pile of books for a frantic-looking Hannah Abbott. I couldn't help feeling pity for the girl, I knew exactly how she felt. No matter how unreal this whole situation was, there was no way I was going into the O.W.L.s to make a fool of myself. And the pressure was just only building.

"I wish I could talk to Sirius."

I took no notice of his words until Ginny went stiff, glancing unmistakably in my direction. I turned to Harry, who hadn't noticed her change in attitude, too busy staring aimlessly at the words on the back of the package in his hands. He peeled back a corner, breaking off a piece of the Easter Egg and putting it into his mouth, cringing slightly as if it was bitter.

"It's alright," I said quietly, "I know."

Harry's head snapped up at my words, confirming Ginny's expression with a nod before she continued.

"Well," she said, helping herself to a bit of Harry's egg too, "if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it. . . "

I paused in my reading, knowing exactly what Ginny was hinting, whether she knew it herself or not.

"Come on," Harry said dully. "With Umbridge policing the fires and reading our mail?"

"I don't know, Harry," I said carefully. "I might listen to her."

"Yeah," Ginny said thoughtfully, leaning forward, "the thing about growing up with Fred and George, is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

"Oh damn," whispered Ginny, jumping to her feet. "I forgot – " .

Madam Pince was suddenly swooping down upon us, her shriveled face contorted with rage.

"_Chocolate in the library!_" she screamed. "Out – _out_ – OUT!"

She chased us the entire way out, whipping out her wand and causing Harry's textbooks and my book bag soar after us. Not without whacking us repeatedly over the head as we ran.

…

"Dumbledore sacrificed himself to keep you in school, Harry!" Hermione whispered, raising her book to hide her face from Umbridge. "And if you get thrown out today it will have all been for nothing!"

"Harry, don't do it. Please don't do it!" Hermione was practically begging by the end of class. But there was no changing Harry's mind. He was determined to talk to Sirius; to talk to him about his father. What Harry had seen in Snape's memory had disturbed him. He hadn't explained the details to anyone, leaving out the fact that his father had hoisted a teenager Snape up in the air by his pants. I guess it was the fact that his father had made the impression Lily had married him forcefully, that she never loved his father the way he had always pictured it. It took everything I had not to tell him he was wrong, horribly wrong, that his parent's had in fact loved each other until the end. But it would have been so wrong coming from me, and I forced myself to bite my own tongue.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said as the bell rung and everyone made a beeline for the exit of Umbridge's classroom. "He can make up his own mind."

We weren't even out the door before people started screaming. There was a giant clump of people standing just outside the door, all staring up at the ceiling fearfully –

Then Umbridge was waddling as fast as she could past me, pushing Ron into the wall behind him. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off, shoving students out of the way with her short arms.

"It's now or never, Harry," I whispered, touching his arm lightly.

"Harry – please!" said Hermione weakly.

Harry ignored her, hitching his bag more securely onto his shoulder before setting off into a run in the opposite direction. Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"It's fine," I pulled her forward gently, merging into the growing crowd that was flowing in the direction of the Great Hall.

I couldn't help feeling respect towards Fred and George. The night before they had complied to Harry's request to speak to Sirius. . . the only way being in Umbridge's own office. It was pretty amazing what the twins would do for their friends, probably not mentioning the fact that they still owed Harry for all of his winnings last year in the tournament.

By the time the crowd had slowed down, we were in the entrance hall. There was already a ring forming, most of the students on the inner edge covered in green muck. I noticed that a few staff members and ghosts had stopped by to watch, but not before I caught a glimpse of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves. There was also Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, staring down at Fred and George, who stood in the middle of the circle with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered. Hermione gasped, bringing her hand up to her throat.

"So!" Umbridge said triumphantly, who, I noticed, was standing just a few feet in front of me. "So . . . you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred said, looking back up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch was suddenly next to Umbridge, practically crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving a piece of parchment in his hand. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting . . . Oh, let me do it now. . . ."

"Very good, Argus," she said, clearly amused with herself. "You two," she went on, gazing down at Fred and George from her perch on the staircase, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers at my school."

"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."

"George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George said lightly, as if they were discussing what kind of tea they wanted at the moment.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred, his voice echoing through the quiet hall.

"Definitely," said George, smiling.

Before Umbridge could even say a word, they both raised their wands in unison, chanting together.

"_Accio Brooms!"_

There was a loud crash in the distance and half of the crowd ducked as Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg it had detached itself from, were hurtling along the corridor towards the twins. They shot down the staircase and I pushed Ron out of the way as they whizzed past out heads before stopping sharply in front of the twins.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred spoke to Umbridge openly, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George said, mounting his own while sending the toad an ugly smile.

Fred suddenly stopped, turning to address the entire crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley – Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George finished, pointing at Umbridge. A few brave people in the crowd chuckled and Ron turned towards me and Hermione, his eyes glinting as a smile spread across his face.

"STOP THEM!" Umbridge shrieked, but it was too late. As Malfoy and the rest of his prissy friends stepped forward, the twins kicked off from the floor, shooting sixteen feet into the air the iron peg still swinging dangerously from the end of George's broom. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Giver her hell from us, Peeves."

Peeves swept his belled hat from his head and sprang into a salute as Fred and George wheeled around and sped out the open front doors and into the glorious sunset. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder, watching the two shadows disappear into the haze of the horizon. I joined in to the tremendous echoing of hundreds of students clapping and cheering, grinning from ear to ear as Umbridge ran around in circles, swatting at children who were celebrating, her cries drowned by the sound.


	26. Interruptions

_**Disclaimer: **_**I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was beginning to be retold so often over the next week that even Ron could understand it would soon become a Hogwarts legend. Within the week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms, pelting her with Dungbombs before zooming out the doors. Everyone was buzzing with the topic and I frequently heard students saying things like, "Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place". And the best, "One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley. . . ."

Fred and George had also made sure that no one was going to forget them very soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp they had settled in the corridor on the fifth floor. It was hysterical, watching Umbridge and Filch struggle for hours, trying to remove the smallest globs of green goo without success. Eventually the area was just roped off, Filch being pressed with the task of getting students across it and to their classrooms that had happened to be in the line of fire. I could have bet my life that McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but just as in the case of the fireworks, they seemed to prefer to watch the toad wade helplessly through the green muck in he fruitless struggles.

To make it even better, there were two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's door. Filch had fitted a new door, also sending a armed security guard troll to guard Harry's firebolt. Well, the last part had been more of a rumor.

Now that Fred and George's stunt was over, other students seemed to get a burst of courage as, the next day, someone managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Umbridge's office, which tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects. Whatever a niffler looked like, I sure did not want to discover it for myself as, as soon as the thing had gotten into her room, it had leapt upon the toad's desk and tried to gnaw the rings off her fingers. Next came the Dungbombs and Stinkpellets that were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform the Bubble-Head Charm on themselves before leaving a lesson, ensuring them a supply of clean air. Even though it made it look like everyone was wearing a upside-down fish bowl over their heads.

Filch was now carrying his horsewhip, of course always at the ready in his stubby, old hands. He was on cloud nine, running around trying to catch children misbehaving, except for the fact there were so many Filch did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad were attempting to help him, but strange things kept happening to its members. Warrington was presorted to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complain that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy, to my delight, missed all her lessons the following day due to the fact that she had sprouted antlers.

Then next came the Skiving Snackboxes. It soon became clear just how many the twins had managed to sell before leaving. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for students to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms back to their source. But everyone was steeling her stubbornly that they were suffering from "Umbridge – itis." She had finally given up, sending the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classroom in packs. And then there was Peeves, who wasn't showing any sign of defying the twins anytime soon. He had already succeeded in flooding the entire second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathroom and spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and lowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

"It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait," Ron said darkly. "She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms or hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it'll be all my fault."

"Well, if she does say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything!" I said.

"But I sure she won't," Hermione added, "I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages . . . "

"Yeah," Ron interjected, "and another thing, how did they get premises? It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley, she'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold . . . "

"Well, yes, that occurred to me too," Hermione allowed her teacup to jog in small circles around Harry's. Transfiguration was slow today, due to the fact Peeves had now shoved Mrs. Norris into a suit of armor again, and Filch had pitched such a fit that McGonagall had gone out to fix the situation herself.

"I've been wondering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful . . . "

"He hasn't," Harry said curtly, not looking at anyone.

"How do you know?" Ron and Hermione practically spoke as one person.

"Because – " Harry paused for a moment before continuing. "Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June."

There was a shocked silence, then Hermione's teacup jogged right over the edge of her desk and smashed to little pieces upon the floor.

"Oh, Harry, you _didn't_!"

"Yes, I did," Harry said mutinously. "And I don't regret it either – I didn't need the gold, and they'll be great at a joke shop. . . "

"But this is excellent!" Ron was looking thrilled. "It's all your fault, Harry – Mum can't blame me at all! Can I tell her?"

"Yeah, I suppose you'd better," Harry said rather dully. " 'Specially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something. . . "

Hermione was silent for the rest of class, but I got the idea that her self-restraint upon the subject was bound to crack before long. McGonagall didn't return until five minutes of the lesson remained and we spend the rest of the time racing our teacups across our desks. It was during our break from classes in the weak May sunshine that she fixed her gaze upon Harry with a beady eye, her mouth opening with a determined air.

"It's no good nagging me, it's done," Harry said firmly before she had the chance to speak. "Fred and George have got the gold – spent a good bit of it too, by the sounds of it – and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. So save your breath, Hermione."

"I wasn't going to say anything about Fred and George," Hermione said in an injured voice.

Ron snorted disbelievingly from his spot under a large oak and Hermione threw him a very dirty look.

"No, I wasn't!" she said angrily. "In fact, I was going to ask Harry when he's going to go back to Snape and ask for Occlumency lessons again!"

Ever since Harry had used Umbridge's fireplace to speak to his godfather, Hermione had been nagging him about starting lessons again. Harry must have not wanted to tell them exactly why he had been contacting Sirius, as he had skirted around the subject many times, telling them that Sirius wanted him to restart his lessons with Snape. But now that he had shared that information aloud, Hermione wasn't going to live it down.

"You can't tell me you stopped having funny dreams," Hermione said lowly, "because Ron told me last night you were muttering in your sleep again."

Harry threw Ron a furious look, who sat underneath the tree looking ashamed of himself.

"You were only muttering a bit," he mumbled apologetically. "Something about 'just a bit further.' "

I stopped, snapping my head up in Harry's direction. I had been mostly listening, relaxing in the soft grass and warn sunlight. But what Ron had said made me freeze. Not because I knew what he was talking about, but because I had also experienced it.

"I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch," Harry said harshly. "I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit farther to grab the Quaffle."

Ron's ears went red.

"You are trying to block your mind, right?" I asked quietly, my thoughts still running through the dream that had haunted my mind for the past few nights. I had thought I was just dreaming about it. Dreaming about something I had read about.

"You are keeping up with your Occlumency?" Hermione pressed, stepping forward.

"Of course I am," Harry answered both of us in one sentence. The rest of our free period went by in silence.

As we learned in the next few weeks, teachers were no longer giving out homework; lessons were devoted to reviewing those topics their teachers thought most likely to show up in the exams. Many people were starting to act oddly. Hermione was no longer leaving out little clothes for elves, as she spent a lot of time muttering to herself. Ernie Macmillan had devolved an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.

"How many hours d'you reckon you're doing a day?" he demanded as soon as Harry, Ron and I had stepped outside the Herbology greenhouse, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"I dunno," Ron said. "A few. . . "

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I suppose," Ron replied, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," Ernie puffed out his chest, glancing in my direction a few seconds longer than necessary. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend. I did nine and a half on Monday – "

If my life hadn't been stressful before – actually, I wasn't sure I knew the exact definition of stress until the final week came before the O.W.L.s. All the fifth years were on edge, staying up late into the night and waking at the crack of dawn to cram in four years worth of studies. I was even worse. How was I supposed to learn half of the things they had been taught most of their school career, and I learn it in just a seven months? That didn't stop me from studying though. It was going to be the only chance I would be able to take the wizarding test, real or not, and I was determined to make a good impression.

Ron spent most of his time stuck to Hermione's heels, following her around all day long to ask questions. As Hermione spent most of her time in the library, it would be hours before Harry and I would see them again. Hermione seemed more than happy to aid Ron, despite the fact she had chastised him in wanting to by one of the black-market items the seventh years had begun to sell, all of them advertising perfect marks on the O.W.L.s. He had been drawn to a bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir which, after confiscated by Hermione, turned out to be a jar of dried doxy droppings.

It was one of those dragging evenings of studying I found myself alone again with Harry. The common room was surprisingly empty, despite the fact it was close to dinner. If the fifth years weren't either in the library or on a spot upon the grass surrounded by dozens of textbooks, I realized the rest of them just shut themselves up in their dormitories.

"Do you know the year of the Goblin Revolution?" I asked in a dreary voice, flipping through the pages of my magical history book without actually reading the pages.

"Which one?" Harry asked without looking up from his own textbook.

"There are multiple?" I groaned.

Harry chuckled at my distress, turning to the next page in his potions book. It was the factual studying that was the worst. Practicing for the physical portion of the test was rather exciting, as I was able to use my wand. But learning about goblins and the populations of the pixies in 1798 was just as boring as muggle work, except for the fact it was about mythical creatures.

I scooted closer to Harry where we sat next to each other on the maroon loveseat. Resting my head upon his shoulder, I read a few confusing lines from his potions textbook.

"Oh no, I'm screwed," I closed my own book with a loud snap.

"Then I don't want to know what that makes me," Harry smiled, pushing his potions book onto the floor. "I think I'm done for a moment. I really don't give to know the different uses of moongrass in different seasons."

"I want to know why the goblins would need more than one revolution. Was their government really that messed up?"

Harry mumbled something I didn't catch, my breath hitching in my throat as I felt his arm slide around my torso. I sighed approvingly, making sure to brush my lips down his jawline as I leaned in closer. Harry stiffened, the arm around me flexing sharply. I pretended to ignore the reaction, letting my eyes drift shut. It was quiet for a moment, the only thing audible being the loud beating of Harry's heart as I sat there, listening. I don't really have the right to say anything, as I was just as worse, if not more, off as him. My head was starting to feel like it was drifting through the clouds as I struggled to keep my breathing at a steady pace.

"Do you want to take a little break?" The question was so innocently asked that I didn't think anything of it until I glanced up. Harry was openly staring at me, the strange gleam in his eyes making me pause. Maybe if I had been paying more attention I would have realized that his arm had once again tightened around my waist, or that he had leaned in a bit closer than we had been before. But, yet again, I was entranced by the eyes that put mine and everyone else's I had ever met to shame. I had begun to think there was something inhuman about them; it wasn't possible. No one's eyes could be _that_ green. _That_ bright.

"What – ?"

Harry pushed the textbook off my lap and was over me in one fluid motion. With one hand, I gripped the back of his neck while the other was loosely touching his side, the elbow propped on the sofa. His arms were on either side of my waist and I reached up towards him when, suddenly, one of his hands prodded my side. I jumped, involuntarily jerking my head to the side.

"Stop!" I laughed and tried to swat his hand away.

"What? Have I _finally_ found a weakness of the great Andy Goodrich?" he poked me again and I withered with laughter under him.

"No – Don't you dare!" I shouted a bit too loudly. Harry reached down to kiss me and I stopped, totally absorbed for a moment. But with the hand that was at his side, I reached for a spot between his ribs and Harry jolted, chuckling.

"Alright, this is war," he growled playfully and sat up, straddling me but also sufficiently pinning me to the couch. His fingers dug into my side, tickling me so much I burst out laughing.

"No, no! Stop it! Please! Stop!" I begged, crying and gasping for air.

Harry chuckled, but thankfully stopped and fell back on top of me as I still shook in a fit of giggles.

That's when something clattered to the floor with a hollow thud.

We both moved so fast it was as if someone had shocked us with electricity. Neville stood by the fireplace, struggling fruitlessly with a coat rack twice his size, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'm s-s-sorry," he croaked. It took three tries and ten more mumbled apologies before the coat rack was standing on its own again. Neville stepped forward and reached out as if to keep himself from falling, his hand gripping the back of a chair so hard his knuckles were white.

"No, it's fine," I said. "We thought everyone was downstairs at dinner."

Harry nodded nervously and fixed his shirt. There was an awkward silence as we all waited for the other to say something.

"So," Neville drawled out the word. He drummed his fingers on the chair. "Are y-you two like a . . ." he crossed his arms over each other and pointed to us like that would explain everything.

"I guess," Harry said, stealing a glance in my direction.

"That's nice," Neville nodded. There was another long moment of silence.

"Aren't you hungry, Neville?" I said politely, but I was thankful to God that he noticed the hint in my voice.

"I did eat earlier, but now that you mention it, Andy . . . I am a bit hungry," he started towards the door, his steps stiffer than usual.

"Bye, Neville," I waved, making it even more awkward as he wacked his hand into an ink pot trying to return the gesture. Harry coughed loudly, mostly to cover up his laughter.

He nodded again and almost ran out of the common room.

"Good," Harry sighed when the sound of the Fat Lady shut the opening into the common room. "I thought he'd never leave."

"And you did a whole lot to help too," I said sarcastically and Harry smiled. He bent down to pick up my discarded book and set it on the table in front of us.

"So, are we really like a . . ." I copied Neville on what he had tried to ask us before, movements and all.

Harry shrugged lightly, his face suddenly flushing.

"No way," I gasped and he snapped his head around. "Am I making Harry Potter blush?"

"No," he bit back a bit too quickly, darkening to a shade that would compete against Ron.

"I did too!" I giggled lightly, poking him playfully in the side. Harry cringed away from my hand, failing miserably at hiding his growing smile. He didn't answer at first, still refusing to look at me. When he did turn back, his face wasn't nearly as red, but I still had to fight back my own laughter. But my laughter quickly died as he continued to move in closer, stopping just before his lips touched mine.

"You never answered my question," I managed to say, my eyes sliding shut again. My lips brushed his lightly as they formed the words, sending burning flames throughout my entire body.

"I guess this will," he whispered and brought his lips down on mine. And that was how he kissed me, so slowly I could have melted, burning every sensation in my body to a singe. He pulled away too soon, the warmth of his lips still tingling upon my own skin. And right at the best moment because Ron and Hermione entered through the portrait and into the common room, bickering about how much Ron had inhaled at dinner.


	27. OWLs

**_Disclaimer:_I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

Hermione would not leave me alone.

In every minute of every day she was there, next to me. It would have been relatively normal if she had let me go about my business. Instead she was insisting that I spend every waking hour of every day practicing for the O.W.L.s. Apparently since I'm the one who has less experience with the wand (I really hadn't though it had been showing that much) Hermione felt the need to make me do spells over and over again. Always under her supervision of course, in case I got anything wrong. It was not that I was horrible with a wand, just unpracticed. It almost felt as if I had gone to long without playing the piano. Once your fingers touch the keys, it feels familiar. But that doesn't mean you won't screw up here and there. Secretly, I was happy for her instructions. But then again, it was Hermione who was teaching me. If I did a silly little thing wrong or flicked my wrist too sharply she would shake her head and force me to start over. But my biggest problem was Stunning. For some reason, the spell just seemed to reject me, never hitting with the exact amount of force I had intended or hardly at all. During a free period last week, Harry had bravely volunteered to be my Stunning victim as Hermione instructed from the sidelines. It was awful forcing myself to jinx him; though the times I really tried Harry was only out for half a minute tops.

O.W.L.s came too quickly. The entire fifth year was practically going mentally insane with anticipation the day of the test arrived. I would admit that I had been excited when I opened my eyes that morning, though many of the other students were not exactly floating in the same boat. Lavender had almost made herself sick with thoughts of freezing upon entering the practical part of the test. Hermione had gotten out of bed with a determined look upon her face; it increasingly similar to the expression Harry would bear when he would walk out onto the Quidditch Pitch. Or used to, as I had only witnessed him actually play only a couple games before The Toad jumped in. Personally, I was ecstatic over the thought I would be finally able to take the test. (As I could truthfully say this for the first time in my entire educational career.) Or, at least, the first week of testing. The fact that something academic could last for so long, it was almost daunting. The idea of having part of your test every morning and evening for fourteen days straight can be a bit of a downer.

Our first exam scheduled was Theory of Charms. Harry had regretted instantly helping Hermione test for it after lunch the day before. She had been very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had got the answer completely right. Sunday had been an uncomfortable evening. Everyone was trying to do some last minute studying but nobody seemed to be getting very far. At lunch that day though, everyone was silent. Pavarti started muttering incantations under her breath, the saltshaker in front of her twitching when she paused. Hermione was rereading a large book so fast her eyes appeared blurred, and Neville kept dropping his utensils and knocking over the marmalade. After breakfast, the staff ushered the fifth and seventh years out into the Great Hall while the rest of the students made their way to class.

"Ready?" I said cheerily, elbowing Harry lightly in the arm.

"Is there something wrong with you? We are about to take a huge test and you are smiling," Harry gave me an incredulous look before lightly placing the back of his hand against my forehead. "Are you getting a fever?"

"Of course not." I swatted his arm away sharply. Instantly, I regretted it, almost craving the sensations that shot through my body whenever he touched me. It had been ages since we had been alone, or at least if felt close to that. I knew I wasn't taking this O.W.L.s thing seriously but who could blame me?

Our class is called before he can say anything else and, with a slight brush of his fingers against mine, Harry makes his way into the Great Hall. Except the moment I stepped foot inside the room that had become so familiar, I stopped. The four House tables had been removed and replaced instead with many desks, all facing the staff-table at the end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing us. I took a spot behind a Reavenclaw girl with cascading golden curls as McGonagall gave us the cue to begin.

I turned over my paper, my heart thumping in my chest. Three seats ahead of me and one to the right, Hermione was already scribbling . . . I lowered my eyes to the first question: _a)__Give __the __incantation, __and __b) __describe __the __wand __movement __required __to __make __objects __fly._

I glanced up quickly and my eyes immediately locked with Harry's, who had taken a seat behind one of the Patil twins (as it was hard to tell from the back). He smiled, his grin dazzling me again before I forced myself to look away and focus.

It all passed in a blur. Two hours goes quickly. And then lunch is gone before I found myself waiting in line for the Charm practice exam. As small groups of students were called forward in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantation and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking one another in the back or eye by mistake.

"Finch-Fletchly, Justin – Finnegan, Seamus – Goldstein, Anthony – Goodrich, Andrea."

"Andrea's your real name?" Ron looked up from his spell to raise his eyebrows.

"Is there something wrong with it?" I shot back, grabbing my bag quickly as the other students began to line up in front of Professor Flitwick.

"'Course not," Ron flushed slightly under my direct gaze. "Just never knew, that's all."

"I did," Harry whispered jeeringly. It was true I had told him months before, mostly because he had come out and asked.

I was assigned to Professor Tofty, a rather balding, old man who peered at me over his pince-nez as I approached.

"No need to be nervous," he said in his old quivery voice. " . . . Now, if I could ask you to take this eggcup and make it do some cartwheels for me . . . "

In a whole, I can say it went pretty well. Though I accidently switched my Color Changing Charm with a permeate Sticking Charm. Only when nothing happened the first time did I realize my mistake. Though, the next time Tofty went for his goblet I didn't expect him to get very much.

The rest of the week past relatively quickly, written and practical exams becoming a bit easier as time wore on. That was, until Potions came along. The written exam had been extremely difficult, though the essay on the effects of the Polyjuice Potion came relatively easily. I looked up just in time to see Ron snicker at the question, quickly faking a cough before Snape could catch him. Though Care of Magical Creatures was just awful. I failed to demonstrate the correct handling of a bowtruckle, and my fire-crab seared the inside of my burns as I was forced to feed and clean it. The Astronomy and Divination exams were on the same day, as the Astronomy practical test was only capable to be taken at night. Harry was positive that he had not gotten all of Jupiter's moons correct, though it was something the muggle schooling department had drilled into my mind by fourth grade. Divination was not that bad; I actually didn't see what Harry had a problem with all the time. It wasn't exactly hard, especially if you didn't believe in most of the rubbish that clouds it. The tea-leaf symbols hadn't been too hard to memorize, and the tealeaves had settled into the sign for courage next to a thing that I could of sworn had four legs.

"Well, we are always going to fail that one," Ron said gloomily to Harry as we descended the marble staircase later that night to finish our Astronomy exam. Ron went into detail about how he had seen an ugly man with a wart on his nose in his crystal ball, only to look up and realize he had been describing the examiner's reflection.

"We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place," Harry sighed.

"Still, at least we can give it up now."

"Yeah," Harry said. "No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly . . ."

"And from now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell _die,__Ron,__die_– I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong."

Harry and I burst out into laughter at this, though we stopped as soon as Hermione came running around the corner, spewing facts about her Arithmancy exam.

It's almost eleven before we make our way to finish the end of our Astronomy exam, as charting the stars and planets are only capable in the night sky. Climbing up the Astronomy Tower, I couldn't help but feel a sudden dread. The sky was cloudless and prefect for stargazing at eleven o'clock, but I couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling as I peered over the edge into the courtyard too stories below. The scene that would happen less than a year from now frightened me, the thought of Dumbledore, now that he was actually flesh and blood to me, dying . . . I didn't want to think about it.

I charted the constellation Orion without difficulty and when I adjusted my telescope towards Venus, it slipped. I would have readjusted again if it hadn't been for the clarity that came through the zoom. It was so sharp I could make out the clothing on each of the figures who were talking a stroll across the grounds, especially the one clad in pink.

They stopped at Hagrid's Hut and I cast a quick glance up at Harry to find his telescope also focused in the same direction. Tofty, the same man who had been present at my Charms practical exam, clear his throat and Harry automatically pushed his telescope upwards into the sky again. But the moment Tofty turned, Harry had the lenses pointed in Hagrid's direction again

"Ahem – Twenty minutes to go." But as soon as he spoke, a crash erupted form Hagrid's cabin.

"Try to concentrate, now, boys and girls," he said softly and most of the students returned to their telescopes.

I looked down and realized I had accidently mislabeled Venus as Mars and bent to correct it when a loud _BANG_ rang from the grounds. Hagrid's door had burst open and the figures who had been parading with Umbridge stormed in, the light flooding out of the cabin enabling the entire year to see Hagrid himself clearly from so many levels up. Everyone saw a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny streams of red light they were casting, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

"No!" Hermione cried.

"My dear," Tofty was behind her, scowling in his scandalized voice. "This is an examination!"

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star charts anymore; Jets of red light were still flying beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him. He was still upright and fighting,

"Be reasonable Hagrid," a man was yelling, his voice echoing across the grounds.

"Reasonable be dammed, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

I glimpsed the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he collapsed to the ground. Hagrid howled in fury, picking up the culprit bodily from the ground and throwing him what looked like ten feet as if he was a doll. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth. I looked around at Ron and Harry, who were exchanging scared expressions. Watching Hagrid lose his temper was frightening and I knew from Harry's own face he had never seen it before either.

"Look!" Pavarti squealed as she leaned over the parapet and pointed to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened; more light spilled out onto the dark lawn and a single black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.

"No really," Tofty said anxiously. "Only sixteen minutes left, you know!"

But nobody paid him the slightest attention. They were all watching the person sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin.

"How dare you!" the figure shouted as she ran.

"McGonagall!" Hermione whispered.

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" McGonagall's voice ran through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such – "

I didn't even have a chance to react as Hermione, Pavarti, and Lavender all screamed. No fewer than four beans of red light had shot from the figures around the cabin and towards McGonagall. Halfway back to the castle the two collided, McGonagall illuminated for one moment in the red glow before being picked up right off her feet and landing hard on her back, moving no more.

"COWARDS!" Hagrid bellowed, his voice carrying clearly to the top of the tower and several lights flickered on in the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT – AN' THAT –"

"Oh my – " I gasped.

Hagrid took two swipes at the remaining attackers, knocking them both on their backs where they lie still. Bending over quickly to throw a sack over his shoulders that I later identified as Fang, Hagrid shot off towards the gates, disappearing quickly into the darkness.

"Get him, get him!" screamed Umbridge, but the last remaining figure didn't seem so keen on following Hagrid.

"Um . . .five minutes to go, everybody . . . "

No one bothered with the rest of his or her exam, and as soon as the five minutes were up they were talking loudly about what they had just witnessed.

"That evil woman!" Hermione gasped. "Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!"

"She clearly wanted to avoid another scene," I said, shaking my head.

"Hagrid did well, didn't he?" Ron said, looking more alarmed than impressed. "How come all those spells bounced off him?"

"It'll be his giant blood," Hermione said simply. "It's very hard to Stun a giant. They're like trolls, really tough . . . But poor Professor McGonagall. Four Stunners straight in the chest, and she's not exactly young, is she?"

The Gryffindor Common room was in a mess. The commotion out in the grounds had awoken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends.

"But why sack Hagrid now?" Angelina Johnson asked as she threw her hands up into the air. "It's not like Trelawney, he's been teaching much better than usual this year!"

"Umbridge hates part-humans," Hermione said bitterly, flopping into an armchair. "She was always going to try and get Hagrid out."

"And she thought Hagrid was putting nifflers in her office," piped up Katie Bell.

"Oh blimey," Lee Jordon covered his mouth in horror. "It's been me putting the nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple, I've been levitating them in through her window . . . "

"She'd shacked him anyway," Dean said. "He was too close to Dumbledore."

"That's true," Harry sighed, sinking into the couch across from Hermione.

"I just hope Professor McGonagall's alright," Lavender said tearfully.

"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched thorough the dormitory window," Colin Creevey was suddenly standing next to me. "She didn't look very well . . .."

The final exam was the next day, but it was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. I couldn't sleep for hours after that, unable to get the picture of McGonagall's body being pushed backwards by a volley of powerful red jets of light.

I took my place in front to a roll of parchment at two o'clock in the seat behind the abundant haired Ravenclaw. History of Magic had been the subject I had been dreading, and it was even worse as last night's scene still played through my mind. I had been so engrossed in my studies for the O.W.L.s, I had barely thought of what was supposed to happen next. This time it was Professor Marchbanks who stood at the front of the Great Hall, giant hourglass at the ready. "You may begin . . ."

I stared at the first question for several minutes before I realized I had not taken in a single word. I skipped to question five, the shortest; _How __was __the __Statute __o f__Secrecy __breached in __1749 __and __what __measures __were __introduced __to __prevent __a __reoccurrence?_

I know this. But my mind can't seem to focus enough to write down coherent sentences. I manage a few more lines before I stop again. All around me quills were scratching on parchment. I managed to fill in the next page without missing a question in ten minutes, though the one about Liechtenstein had made my stomach lurch.

I rested my head in my hands for a moment, running my fingers through the roots. Think. I knew this one. But when I opened my eyes again I was no longer in the Great Hall. I was walking along the cool, dark corridor of the Department of Mysteries, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determine to reach my destination at last . . .

The sound of quills and trickling sand buzzed in my ears for a moment and my vision blurred like a wet watercolor painting. Just as suddenly, I was in a cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres . . . My heart was beating very fast now . . . I knew this place . . . And I was going to get there this time . . . When I reached number ninety-seven I turned and ran along an aisle between two towering rows.

My vision wavered again and I was back looking at the bland white of my parchment. Glancing up, I glimpsed the back of Harry's head resting heavily against his hands, elbows propped against his desktop. Rubbing my suddenly heavy eyes with the back of my hand, my head fell forward and I was back in the room with glass spheres.

"Take it for me . . . Lift it down, now . . . I cannot touch it . . . but you can . . ."

The sound came from my own mouth, but I knew it wasn't my voice. A cold, empty sound rang through the room, vacant of all human kindness. Something at my feet shifted a little and I raised my own, pale white hand clutching a wand at the heap on the floor.

"_Crucio_!"

The heap on the floor, which I realized was a man, let out a scream of pain. I was laughing. I raised my wand again and the figure became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting . . . "

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance . . .

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.

"Undoubtedly, I shall in the end," I said in the same cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black . . .You think you felt pain thus far? Think again . . .We have hours ahead of us and nobody is going to hear you scream . . . "

But somebody else screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again, and it wasn't in the Department of Mysteries. My eyes flew open in shock to as Harry collapsed to the floor.


	28. Just A Dream

**_Disclaimer:_I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

"Harry, what was that?"

I had been unable to help him. None of us could have helped him. The moment I had stood, Professor Tofty had ushered me back into my seat, rushing to Harry's side as he was still lying upon the stone floor. The entire class was staring by the time the old man had escorted Harry out of the Great Hall. There was only ten minutes left until the examination was over, but I still didn't answer a single question. Tofty had returned to pick up Harry's examination, shaking his head. The moment the bell rang I had ran for the doors, being the first one out with Ron and Hermione right on my heels.

We had found Harry pushing his way through students, oblivious to their angry protests and shouts.

"Harry, are you alright?" I said at once.

"Are you ill?" Hermione added. Harry did look a little sickly, his face glistening and flushed.

"Come with me," Harry led us along the first-floor corridor, stopping in an empty classroom.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

"_What_?"

"How d'you – "

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam," Harry said sharply.

I tired my best to act surprised, worried, and horrified. It was a bit strange, knowing such a big piece of information. That his godfather was actually fine, attending to Buckbeak in his house across London. Part of me wanted to tell him. Tell him it was just Voldemort playing tricks on him. That is was all really just a dream. But, then again, how would I explain myself? But wasn't it all _supposed_ to happen anyway? I didn't know what would happen if Harry did end up not going to the Department of Mysteries.

"How are we going to get there," I said suddenly. Harry glanced at me, an unreadable expression upon his face.

There was a moment of silence.

"G-get there?" Ron choked.

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius," Harry finished loudly.

"But – Harry . . ." Ron said weakly.

"_What_?"

"Harry," Hermione said in a small voice. "Err . . . How did . . . Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?"

"How do I know?" Harry bellowed. "I dunno, Voldemort used and Invisibility Cloak or something! Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been – "

"You've never been there, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You've dreamed about the place, that's all."

"They're not normal dreams!" Harry shouted in her face, taking a step closer to her. "How d'you explain Ron's dad then, what has that all about? How come I knew what happened to him?"

"He's got a point," Ron said, looking at Hermione. I stiffened, but thankfully no one noticed. I was afraid to say something. Afraid I was going to draw unwanted attention again upon the subject of Ron's father.

"It's just – just so unlikely," Hermione said desperately. She looked Petrified at the expression on Harry's face as he glowered at her. "But what if – what if this is – Voldemort knows you, Harry! He took Ginny down into the Chamber of Secrets to lure you there, it's the kind of thing he does."

"Hermione! They've taken McGonagall to St. Mungo's, there isn't anyone left from the Order at Hogwarts who we can tell, and if we don't go, Sirius is dead!"

"But Harry – what if you dream was – was just that, a dream?"

That was the exact wrong thing to say. Harry let out a roar of frustration and Hermione actually stepped back, looking alarmed.

"Andy understands this!" Harry yelled, and I flinched at my name. "I'm not having nightmares, I'm not dreaming!"

"Harry, Dumbledore wanted you to take Occlumency to help you learn how to shut these things out of you mind – "

"IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN –"

The classroom door opened and we all whirled around. I saw the flaming hair before I saw her. Ginny stepped in, looking curious, closely followed by Luna, who as usual looked as though she had drifted in accidentally.

"Hi," Ginny said uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice – what are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," Harry said roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows "There's no need to take that tone with me. I was just wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," harry said shortly.

"You're being rather rude, you know," Luna said serenely.

Harry swore and turned away.

"Wait, Harry," I took the chance to speak up again. "Wait . . . they can help." I knew a way he could connect with his godfather, though maybe it wouldn't turn out the way he wanted. Well, I knew it wasn't going to for sure.

"We need to check to make sure Sirius has actually left his house. Then, Harry, if he is not there we'll all do whatever it takes to try and save him."

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" Harry now shouted at me and I fought the resist to step backwards as he turned. "We haven't got time to waste – "

I chose my words carefully. "But if this is, what Hermione says, a trick of Voldemort's – Harry, we've got to check, we've got to – "

"How?" he demanded, cutting me off before I could finish my thought. "How are we going to check?"

I paused, glancing at the group who stood before me.

"Umbridge's fireplace, of course."

…

Ginny and Luna had agreed to be lookouts for us as Ron came up with the diversion of Peeves smashing up the Transfiguration department, since it was on the other side of the school. Hermione had appeared horrified when I suggested we did it then and there, as Ginny and Luna worked on a lie to keep students out the hallway her office was in. It only took minutes for Harry to get his Invisibility Cloak and in less than half an hour Hermione, Harry, and I were huddled underneath the cloak, waiting for Ginny's cue.

"You can't come down here! No, sorry, you're going to have to go round by the swiveling staircase, someone's let off Garroting Gas just along here!"

Umbridge's office was just as ugly as usual, the casts mewing at us and staring with their beady eyes. I did know that Harry was going to find out that Sirius _wasn__'__t_ at home; thanks to the lie Kreacher was going to give him. But I couldn't help glancing towards the corridor again and again. In a matter of minutes, I knew what and who was going to burst in open.

"Let's do this quick, Harry," Hermione said with a quick glance around the room.

"I second that," I said with a cautious glance behind my shoulder into the empty room before shutting the door.

"Got it," Harry said. "This will only take a moment. I just have to be sure . . . " He picked up a handful of dust-looking powder in a clay pot beside the fireplace. When he threw the powder over the dead fireplace, green and heatless flames suddenly lurched upward to ignite the furnace into life.

"Andy, are you all right?"

I jumped, looking into Hermione's worried face. My wand was shaking so much that I gave up and shoved it in my robe pocket. Harry had disappeared into the fireplace. Well, his head at least. I stood nervously over to the side, the brave feeling I had when I had introduced the plan draining from my body.

"Of course," I lied, faking a smile. "Why would I be –?"

That's when the door slammed open.

We had been overpowered within seconds. Two figures had burst through the door and one had disarmed Hermione so fast I could hardly blink. By the time I had even thought to draw my wand, someone tackled me. That's when I remembered Harry. But my attention was diverted as a big blob of pink wobbled through the door.

"Harry! Get out of there! Harry – "I was cut off again as Malfoy pushed me hard against the wall next to the fireplace, his hand grabbing my upper arm so roughly I cried out. My wand was yanked out of its robe pocket as I struggled against him.

The pink blob that was Professor Umbridge was on Harry in a second. Malfoy yanked me away from the wall as she pulled Harry out of the fireplace by his hair, his face covered in black soot. She pulled his head back so far that he was looking up at the pink ceiling.

Malfoy grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. His other hand moved to my shoulder. I tried to shake him off, but he pressed the tip of my own wand underneath my chin. The door slammed open again and more Slytherin entered with Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. All of them were gagged. I turned and saw Hermione pinned to the wall by an extremely large girl who I guessed was Millicent Bulstrode. I could tell just by looking at the Slytherin that I loathed her.

"Why are you in my office?" She shook her fist that was closed around Harry's black hair so that he staggered. He scrunched his face in pain but remained quiet.

"He was looking for his Firebolt!" I cried out until I realized what I had done.

"Are you Potter?" Umbridge screeched, her expression so wild it caught me off guard. She turned back to Harry. "Who were you communicating with?"

"No one – " Harry gasped. He tried to pull away from Umbridge but she had her claw-like fingers trapped in his hair.

"Liar!" Umbridge reeled and pushed Harry away, who stumbled into the desk in front of him. She whirled and, if the scene were a cartoon, smoke would have trailed out her ears. We all jumped as she slammed her stubby fist down on her desk, sending the picture of her beloved Fudge shattering to the ground. She had finally lost control.

"Got 'em all," said the Slytherin, who I recognized as Warrington, holding Ron shoved him forward roughly into the room. "That one," he poked a thick finger at Neville, "tried to stop me from taking her," he thrust his thumb at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought him along too."

"Good, good," Umbridge sneered while watching Ginny struggle. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Malfoy laughed loudly and sycophantically, his voice ringing in my ears. I cringed, deliberately throwing my shoulder forward into his chest. He growled, using his body weight to crush me against the wall again. My breath was driven out of my lungs and I gasped, turning my face away towards Harry, who stood helplessly in the middle of the room.

Harry made a move towards me, but stopped in his tracks as Umbridge settled herself in the large, pink chair behind her desk. She looked up at us like a toad in a flowerbed, giving her wide, complacent smile.

"So, Potter," she said. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded to Ron, and Malfoy laughed even louder, "to tell me that the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the transfiguration department when I knew very well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so."

When no one answered her, she just continued, this time staring openly at Harry.

"Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone . . . "

The Slytherins laughed again and rage swept through me. I wasn't going to stand her and let her get away with insulting the greatest people Hogwarts had ever seen. Harry was so full of rage and hatred that he was visibly shaking.

"It's none of your business who I talk to," he snarled, his fists balling at his sides.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well," she said in her most falsely sweet voice. "Very well, Mr. Potter . . . I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco – fetch me Professor Snape."

Malfoy paused, glancing down at me. I didn't resist the urge to smile slightly, gratified with his signature glare in return.

"Don't worry, Draco," Umbridge seemed to read his thoughts before turning to me to smile her sick smile. "Miss Goodrich won't try anything if she doesn't want anything to happen to her friends."

That seemed to cheer Malfoy as he let go and strutted out of the room, stowing Harry's wand and mine inside his robes. A strange expression crept over Harry's face and he risked a glance in my direction, his eyes surprisingly full of hope.

It was one of the most uncomfortable, awkward silences I had ever been through in my life. There were occasional fidgeting and scuffling as the result of the Slytherin's efforts to keep Ron and the others under control. Ron's lip was bleeping onto Umbridge's carpet as he struggled against Warrington. Ginny was still trying to stamp of the feet of the sixth-year girl who had both of her upper arms in a tight grip. Neville was turning steadily purple in the face while tugging at Crabbe's arms and Hermione was attempting vainly to throw Millicent Bulstrode off her. Luna still looked as bored as ever, gazing out the window dreamily.

Umbridge would not let Harry out of her sight. Occasionally she would glance between the two of us, and I made sure to keep my distance. The last thing that horrible woman needed was to realize how desperate I was to save my friends, despite the fact all of this was supposed to happen. I rubbed my arm absentmindedly as Harry kept his face blank and smooth as footsteps were heard in the corridor outside. Malfoy entered the room, closely followed by Snape. Immediately he made his way across the room to where I stood, grabbing my upper arm again. I gritted my teeth, unwilling to not let him see my reaction as his grip slowly made my arm turn numb.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" Snape paused in the doorway, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Snape," Umbridge spoke as if she was surprised to see him. She stood up, though it barely made a difference. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient.

Umbridge flushed and I had to hold back a snicker.

"You can make some more, can't you?" her voice became more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," Snape said, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" Umbridge squawked, swelling toadishly. "A _month_? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" For the first time Snape seemed faintly interested as he looked at Harry. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much indication to follow school rules. "

"I wish to interrogate him!" All Umbridge needed to do was stamp her foot. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I already told you," Snape said smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter – and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy for you if you did – I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling . . . "

Harry was looking wildly at Snape, as if the Potions master could read his thoughts.

"You are on probation!" shriek Professor Umbridge, and Snape only looked back at her with half-raised eyebrows. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave.

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry suddenly shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape stopped with his hand on the door handle.

"Padfoot?" Umbridge stepped early towards Harry, getting in his face. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape turned around, his face inscrutable. If I hadn't known beforehand, I would have no way of knowing if he had understood or not, but I knew Harry would not speak more plainly in front of Umbridge.

"I have no idea," Snape said coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted out me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if you ever apply for a job."

He closed the door behind him with a snap. Harry let his emotions through at that moment, and I clearly saw the color drain from his face. Umbridge, on the other hand, was heaving with rage and frustration.

"Well," she said and pulled out her wand. I tensed suddenly, dreading what was about to happen. Not that it actually would, I knew that. But that thought was in the back of my mind. Just seeing Harry at the mercy of that awful woman made my blood boil. Not that it helped when she steadied her stubby wand in his direction.

"I am left with no alternative . . . This is more than a matter of school discipline . . .This is an issue of Ministry security . . .Yes . . . Yes . . ."

She seemed to be talking herself into something. Sadly, I knew what it was.

"You can't do this!"

Umbridge turned on me again, her toad face round and red. "Draco, shut her up."

"My pleasure," Malfoy breathed as he twirled my wand in his hands and suddenly thick, leather straps bound my wrists tightly together behind my back. He covered my mouth with his hand instead of a Silencing charm, probably out of the self-satisfaction of control. His other arm snaked around my waist uncomfortably, pinning me against him.

"You are forcing me, Potter . . ." she continued her odd chanting as if I had never said anything. "But sometimes circumstances justify the use . . . I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice . . . "

I struggled feebly but Malfoy's grip only became tighter. The ropes were already digging into my skin. I was having a mental debate with myself. Was I supposed to jump in? I couldn't let Umbridge do this. What if something went wrong and she really did curse Harry? I didn't think I would be able to stand it. But I had forgotten one important thing.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue."

"No!" Hermione shrieked. "Professor – it's illegal – " But Umbridge was taking no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face I had never seen before. She raised her wand.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law!" Hermione cried.

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," Umbridge said, now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry's body in turn, as if trying to decide what would hurt the most. "He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same . . ."

"It was _you_?" Harry gasped. "_You_ sent the dementors after me?"

"_Somebody_ had to act," Umbridge breathed as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry's forehead. "Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter?" Not today, though, not now . . ."

Ron caught my gaze from across the room and I could see the fear in his eyes. Ginny, next to him, glared at Umbridge in such a loathing I never pictured on her face while Luna hung limply in her captor's grip. She even looked bored, as if she was going to break out into a drool in front of us all. Neville was starting to turn blue by the way Crabbe was holding him, one of his chubby arms wrapped around Neville's neck in a sort of headlock. Neville clawed at Crabbe's wrist, trying to pry off the huge rope-like limb away from his airway.

I was ready to do anything to get Malfoy off of me. Bite. Scratch. Make him bleed. Personally, I wouldn't have had a problem with all of the above.

"_Cruc_ – "

"NO!" Hermione shouted in a cracked voice. I could barely see her behind Millicent Bulstrode. "No –Harry – Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" Harry yelled.

"We'll have to, Harry, she'll for it out of you anyway, what's . . . what's the point?" Hermione began to cry weakly into the back of Millicent robes, who dodged out of her way with a disgusted look.

"Little Miss Question – All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!" Umbridge said, looking triumphant.

"Er – my –nee – no!" Ron shouted through his gag.

Ginny and Neville were both looking at Hermione as if they had never seen her before. But I had just noticed something. Though Hermione was sobbing desperately into her hands, there was no trace of a tear . . .

"I'm – I'm sorry everyone," Hermione cried. "But - I can't stand – "

"That's right, girl," Umbridge lowered her wand to seize Hermione by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Now then, with whom was Potter communicating with?"

"Well," Hermione gulped into her hands, "well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore . . ."

Ron froze. Ginny stopped trying to step on her captor's toes. Even Luan looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, everyone was so focused upon Hermione no one noticed their reactions.

"You know where Dumbledore is?"

"No!" Hermione sobbed. "We tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog's Head – "

"Idiot girl, Dumbledore wouldn't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!"

"But we needed to tell him something important!" Hermione continued to hold her head tightly in her hands, though it was to hide the absence of tears

"Yes?" Umbridge was practically breathing down her neck.

"We wanted to tell him it's r – ready."

"What's ready?" Umbridge demanded, shaking Hermione harder.

"The . . . the weapon . . . " said Hermione.

Umbridge's eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "Weapon? You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?"

"Yes – yes!" Hermione gasped.

"What kind of weapon is it?"

"I don't r-r-really understand it," Hermione sniffed loudly. "We j-just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-to do . . ."

Umbridge straightened, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," she said.

"I'm not showing . . . _them_," Hermione glared at the Slytherins through her fingers.

"It's not for you to set conditions," Umbridge said harshly.

"Fine!" Hermione shouted, sobbing harder. "I hope they use it on you! Oh – let the whole school know where it is and how to use it, and then if you annoy and of them they'll be able to s-sort you out!"

Theses words had a clear impact on Umbridge. She looked around swiftly and suspiciously at her Inquisitorial Squad, her eyes resting on Malfoy a moment to long, who I knew had been unable to hide his look of greed that had appeared on his face.

"All right dear, let's make it just you and me . . .and we'll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now – "

"Professor," Malfoy said eagerly, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after – "

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone? In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure non of these" – she gestured to Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and me – "escape."

She waved at Harry with her wand and he turned around to look at me once before disappearing after Hermione into the hallway.

The door shut with a thud.


	29. The Beginning of the End

**_Disclaimer:_I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

Malfoy didn't waste a second. If he couldn't take pleasure in following Harry into what could be his doom for all Malfoy knew, he would take it from something else.

I was shoved into the chair Umbridge had been sitting in before. Malfoy stalked around me, the tip of my wand never leaving my skin. He eyed Ron, a sneer on his face.

"Think you could get passed us, weasel?" He jeered. Ginny struggled against her captor at the insult while Ron just glared.

"I never asked you, weaslette," He laughed when Ginny was held fast by the Slytherin brute behind her. As he had been talking, I had begun to ease myself out of the chair. Harry's wand was just in his pocket and the tip was poking out from the hem of the pouch almost tauntingly, gleaming in the fading light that streamed through the dusty glass window.

Suddenly he whirled around, pressing my own wand at my neck in an instant. He waved a finger in my face as if he was telling off a toddler, his lips pressed together in a thin, sneering smile. In the moment of defeat, I guessed there had been no hope of actually getting my fingers around Harry's wand anyway, since they were still pinned behind my back.

"I believe that you and I, so to say," Malfoy said almost passively, but with a nonchalant manner that made me want to sock him in the face even more, "have some unfinished business to attend to."

"I believe you are a stupid, foul, spoiled . . . "My voice sort of did the thing where I realize half way through my sentence that whatever I'm saying is really dumb. I trailed off into a whisper, turning my head before he could catch the rest (not exactly appropriate for a pen) that slipped through my lips. I don't know why I was getting all high and mighty again, considering that he could jinx me at any moment with the wand so close. And something told me he wouldn't hesitate longer than a few moments, unlike he had before.

He pressed the wand harder against my skin to where I was forced to lean back against the edge of the chair.

"What did you just say?" He growled.

I didn't retaliate. This wasn't the time. My tongue was starting to ache as my teeth bit down hard enough to draw blood. _Shut __up, __Andy__.__.__. __Don__'__t __please __him. __What __he __wants __is __for __you __to __retaliate__.__.__._The iron tang of blood brought me back to stare into those cold grey eyes.

"Thought so," he huffed airily. "Too bad Mudblood Granger isn't with us, then we could have a party."

The Slytherins panted along with him in useless laughter. Ginny gave another hopeless struggle, ending with a sickening thud and the sound of Ron's gagged voice. Luna was now staring up at her captor almost dreamily, and the poor boy was getting extremely worried. And that's when I saw it. The bonds around my hands weren't magical, just regular ropes produced from the wand, but it was tight enough to burn the skin if I struggled too much. My wrists had already felt raw and I hadn't even gotten it the least bit loosened. But Umbridge's desk was so close, and so was the pink jeweled-incrusted letter opener, it's tiny, sharpened blade glinting in the setting sun . . .

Malfoy grabbed the collar of my sweater suddenly, yanking my gaze away from her desk. He held the fistful hard against my throat, grinning in a way a Malfoy could; the only way that could make even the most innocent girl want to slap it right off his face.

"Don't you agree?"

My only problem was how I was going to get the letter opener. And then what? I only had a certain amount of time before the fun was up and they just decided to get on with it and go back to dock some points away from a first year that didn't know the '_Prefect __Tax__'_. But then if I got it, I'd have only seconds, maybe less, to untie myself before Malfoy noticed. James Bond can do this with a gun without shooting off his hand. Sure, I could handle a letter opener. But he was Bond. Should I have been comparing myself to a double 'o' MI6 agent? No. And that probably would have saved me a lot of time.

Then I found myself at Millicent's feet. I let a curse slip, though it was more intended towards myself than to the looming bloke, who unmistakably heard it. My head smacked against the hard stone floor of Umbridge's office and I was stunned; not only from the shock of Malfoy almost throwing me to the floor, but the fact I kept thinking so much to where I was now further away from the letter opener than before. Millicent perched a meaty foot on my shoulder when I attempted to roll to my feet, her booted heel digging into my skin through the layers of clothing I had on. She probably could have slammed her foot down for all I knew, for my shoulder added to the equation of all the body parts that had started to ache in the last ten minutes. Though I doubt I would have been able to tell the difference; Harry had compared being touched by her to being slammed by a bludger.

Ginny caught my eyes, though her expression slightly surprised me. She wasn't wide-eyed like her brother or turning colors like Neville, but had the same look in her eye I had seen on her twin brothers before the magical fireworks blew up.

Malfoy was pacing the room, in a soliloquy none of us cared about, stopping to rummage a bit through Umbridge's desk and drive his knuckles into Ron's lower stomach. Warrington had to pull Ron up to his feet, though I believed Ron was putting on a bit of a show for the sake of Ginny's fingers, once hanging loosely at her sides, when they slipped slyly into Malfoy's pocket.

Millicent's amazingly strong hand wrapped around my forearm, dragging me back up to my feet as Malfoy finished his circle. I was trying not to look too much at Ginny when I caught the pink glare in front of me that hung from his long, pale fingers. I started to wish she'd hurry up and knock some people out soon.

"Looking for this? You should be more discrete at your escape attempts, Goodrich," he was of course holding up the bejeweled letter opener in a taunting distance away from my face. Millicent grunted something behind me, her grip tightening uncomfortably, but not that it ever was pleasing in the first place. I couldn't feel my left hand at all.

"It would have been perfect, you know, to cut you free. I'll give you credit for the right idea," Malfoy said almost thoughtfully until he dragged the edge of the finger-long blade lightly over his palm. He grimaced slightly as the shallow red line appeared over his flawless skin, but when he turned back his words were calm, but threatening.

"And it's still very sharp."

He stepped forward right as I took one back. Millicent's other hand was suddenly at my neck, holding me like I was some kind of puppy.

"Put that down," I was completely serious. And somewhat frightened, I'll admit.

"What?" He cocked his head slightly to the side. The pointy letter opener was no longer held casually in his hand. Though it was a bit comical to watch Malfoy wield a tiny, flower-like knife a bit over the length of a pen, but a knife is a knife.

Malfoy noticed my sudden cringe as he held the letter opener close to my face. "What? You're not a Mudblood, are you Goodrich?"

I was backing up as far as I could. That hideous girl was chucking heavily in my ear again, resembling some animal that had been dodging too many cars driving down the highway and was now wheezing like it had some disease. She reminded me of a girl at my old middle school I used to loath. Thank God she moved before we started high school, though it didn't look like Millicent was going anywhere.

Her arm was still holding my neck as the blade got closer. I was starting to feel like I was drowning above water, my windpipe gasping to get air into my lungs as she tightened her grip slowly. I couldn't see Ginny or Ron, only Neville, who's face had now finally chosen the color white.

I froze as the coldness of the letter opener rested against my cheek. Millicent's arm kept my head locked to where I was forced to look at Malfoy as the knife pressed gently against my skin. Her gripped tightened, but did she really think I was going to try something when I had a blade in my face?

"Because with one swipe I can show everyone whether or not you've got Granger's dirty blood."

Ginny didn't go for Malfoy first.

The first to be Stunned was Neville's captor and, it happened so quickly, I barely had time to glance over at the noise that emitted like a gunshot from Harry's wand. Ron yanked himself out of the Slytherin's grip, sending a quick knee to Warrington's gut. The Slytherin doubled over and Ron wasted no time knocking him backwards into a wall, his thick body sending a few glass kittens smashing to the floor. Luna had somehow found the fighting interesting and decided to join, Stunning the Slytherin behind her before he even had the time to even realize she had reclaimed her wand. Warrington struggled to stand, crushing mewing cats underneath his boots. Before Ron could step in again Neville lunged, using his entire body weight to send him and Warrington over Umbridge's desk. Ginny whipped around to land a punch squarely in her captor's jaw, who cried out and clawed at Ginny's face before she could move away.

I stood frozen for a moment, but only long enough to still take advantage of Malfoy's hesitation. I kicked him before he had even turned back towards me, elbowing Millicent hard in the chest. The girl let go of me instantly and I scrambled away. Neville jumped up from behind Umbridge's desk, a large purple lump already starting to swell above his right eye. His wand was already pointed in my direction as he braced himself against Umbridge's pink chair.

"_Duck_!"

I dropped to the floor seconds before Neville shouted the Impediment Jinx. A green jet of light shot directly over my head so close I felt my hair rustle. Millicent, who had been reaching out to grab me, was picked up off her large feet and thrown backwards into the window. Her wand clattered heavily against the ground at my feet, bulky and bent. I lunged, twisting the wand awkwardly around my fingertips before pressing the right side against the ropes around my wrists. Mumbling a cutting spell, I sighed as the ropes fell limply to the floor before I was forced to duck again as Ginny leaped over me. Ron had managed to find his own wand and Stunned Ginny's opponent, who toppled to the floor next to the Slytherin boy who had held Luna. Pulling myself up to my feet, I almost fell over again as rough hands grabbed the back of my sweater. I twisted around before whoever had grabbed me could get a good grip and threw back my arm.

My fist connected with Malfoy's nose so hard I felt the bones shatter under my knuckles.

"Don't ever touch me again," I growled, wiping the thin red smears Malfoy had left on my hand on the back of my robes. Malfoy cursed, stumbling into the fireplace as he turned his head away, blood running from his broken nose.

"Bloody hell, Andy," Ron panted, walking up next to me. I smiled widely at his well-known British catch phrase. "Remind me to never make you mad."

"You'll – bay – bor – that," Malfoy panted, the hand over his nose doing no help in stopping the blood that was now dripping onto Umbridge's floor. Encouraged, I quickly stepped forward, my hand still raised. And Malfoy cringed.

I stopped, a sly smile spreading across my face. I grabbed the front of his robes roughly with one hand, the other going to the front pocket that held my wand. My fingers found the familiar wood quickly and before he could pull away I yanked on the front of his robes again, pulling him so close that we were barely inches apart.

"Make me."

Malfoy snarled, his lips smeared in his own blood. It looked so contrasting against his pale skin, but I wasn't feeling the least bit sorry for the irritating bloke.

Pulling on his robes again, I pushed him down into Umbridge's chair where he glared up at me, still trying to stop the bleeding.

"Ginny, if you will do the honors," I stepped back politely, smiling at Malfoy's frightened expression as the redhead drew closer. When I looked at her face, I could see three shallow scratches down the side of her left cheek.

"My pleasure," she smiled her mischievous grin, looking so much like her older brothers. With a flick of Harry's wand ropes sprung out of thin air, twisting themselves around Malfoy's arms and legs, binding him roughly to the chair. He cringed again as the ropes tightened, trying so hard not to give us satisfaction. But it was already too late for that.

"Bou'll all be expelled!" Malfoy cried out, trying to show the one last bit of dignity he had. Even while trussed like a turkey to a pink chair that was surrounded by glass kittens and ribbon, blood flowing down his face.

Something white caught my eye upon Umbridge's desk and I threw the handkerchief into Malfoy's lap, the pink, curly embroidered initials of the former headmistress staring up at him.

"Use that to clean up your face, Malfoy. You look awful."

Ron and Ginny burst out laughing and I could have sworn even Luna cracked a smile. I took Harry's wand from Ginny as she searched for her own, Ron grabbing Hermione's from where it had somehow found its way across the room during the struggle. The girl holding Ginny and Millicent were out cold, their body's crumpled awkwardly on the floor. Crabbe was still slumped against the wall from where Ginny had Stunned him. And then there was Warrington, who didn't look like he was going to be moving anytime soon. We left Malfoy to suffer in his own thoughts, shutting the door behind us in his little bloodstained face.

"That felt . . . awesome," I paused to search for the right word, staring down at my right hand in awe.

"Because that was awesome," Ginny threw her arm around my shoulders as we made our way down the hallway, but not before she could make a comment about her captor's claw like nails that had scratched her face moments before Ron had Stunned the awful girl.

"Didn't know you could fight, Andy," Neville stepped into line next to me and I caught a closer glimpse at the ugly bump on his head.

"Neville, you're hurt!"

"What, this?" He gestured to his head quickly. "Oh, I'm fine. Warrington got it good though, right?"

"His head was so surrounded by nargles that I reckon he'll be out for hours," Luna said dreamily to the ceiling, not looking at any of us.

I laughed at Neville's confused face as we turned into the next corridor, where Ron stopped suddenly.

"We don't know where they went, do we? Hermione made the stuff up about Dumbledore's weapon . . . but we have no idea what she was planning."

"The Forbidden Forest," I answered absentmindedly, still thinking about my encounter with Malfoy. I had punched him. Punched him so hard I had made his nose bleed. I would be lying if I had said I wasn't proud of myself. I had never pictured myself hitting another human being in my life unless I had been forced to. The fact that it had been Malfoy above all people made me almost happy. It's not like the git had deserved it.

"How do you know?"

Ron didn't ask it like he knew I was lying. He didn't even say it with a pressing tone. But I stopped so quickly I jerked Ginny backwards.

"Why . . . the – the window, of course," I fought to cover myself up. "Before that Slytherin girl grabbed me I . . . I managed to see them walking into the forest."

"Oh," Ron smiled, turning to walk quickly in the direction fastest to the grounds. I grinned at Ginny, who was still talking about my magnificent hit to Malfoy's pretty-boy face, hiding my horrified expression. The question had caught me so off guard I had almost been unable to redeem myself.

Harry and Hermione were there, of course. But I had seemed to forgotten the fact that they would be drenched in blood when they finally came into sight.

"Harry!" I cried out in horror as I took in the dark liquid that stained most of his robes and one side of his neck.

"We're fine," Harry said, seemingly unaware of all the blood. It took me a moment to remember it wasn't theirs as I recalled how Hermione's plan had backfired, only to be saved by Grawp.

"How did you get away?" Hermione asked in amazement, staring wide-eyed at Ron as he held out her wand.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx," Ron said airily. "But Andy was best, she got Malfoy – without a wand, even – broke his nose with her fist. It was superb, his whole face covered in his own 'pure' blood."

"You punched Malfoy?" Harry turned to me with even wider eyes as I pulled his wand out of my pocket.

"Why do you sound so amazed?" I asked defensively, putting on my best girlish smile.

"It's just – I never – I've wanted to do that for years," Harry looked at me with a funny expression on his face, grinning widely. But it wasn't an expression I didn't like.

"It feels good, doesn't it," Hermione smiled.

"It felt great," I laughed.

"Anyway," Ron interrupted, "Andy saw you heading into the forest out of the window. What've you done with Umbridge?"

"She got carried away," Harry said so plainly it was almost comical. "By a herd of centaurs."

"And they left you behind?" asked Ginny, looking astonished.

"No, they got chased off by Grawp."

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked interestedly, her large eyes turning to Harry.

"Hagrid's little brother," Ron said promptly. "Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or – "

"Yes," Harry scowled, "and I'm sure Sirius is still live, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

Everyone fell silent, looking rather scared. I had to suppress a smile, knowing the answer to a question none of them could answer. But I was starting to get second thoughts. Was I supposed to let Harry keep believing that his godfather was in the hands of his mortal enemy? That he really was in fact at home in the Grimmauld Place, not in the Department of Mysteries. But I couldn't help thinking the one question that had been the answer to many of my decisions. What would that do? The books had worked out well as far as I had read them, all the way to the very last 'All was well'. If this had been part of his journey getting there, I really did not want to mess that up.

But I was unknowingly messing it up already.

'Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" My voice cut through the silence sharply.

"Okay," Harry said, suddenly irritable. He rounded on me. "First of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if – "

"Don't give me this 'I'm not allowed to go' crap, Potter," I said just as angrily, pointing a finger at his chest. "Don't you remember what I've done for you this year? The Room of Requirement? Dumbledore's Army? I even had the idea to contact Sirius." Most of those, no, all of those were lies. But how were they supposed to know.

"If you think I am not going with you to London, then you will be sorely mistaken and without transportation," I was almost done with my rant before I remembered one more thing, "Oh, and that goes for all of us. We're all in the D.A. together and it's all about fighting Voldemort, right? About defending ourselves? And now's our chance. We all want to help, Harry," I added gently.

Ginny, Neville and Luna looked up at Harry expectantly, who glared at me.

"Andy," Harry said, "I know you could handle – "

"What makes us any different?" Ginny cut in. "Andy said it all. We want to _help_. Why shouldn't we come? We are all older than you were when you first fought You-Know-Who over the Sorcerer's stone. And it's because of us Warrington and Goyle were Stunned senseless in Umbridge's office."

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Harry said through gritted teeth, rubbing his forehead absentmindedly. "We still don't know how to get there – "

"I thought we'd settled that? We're flying!"

"_Andy_," Harry looked like he was going to start reprimanding me, "we don't have enough broomsticks that aren't being guarded by a security troll to help us out here so – "

"There are other ways of flying than with broomsticks," Luna said almost maddeningly, but I was thankful she had caught onto my idea. Well, technically it was her own idea anyway.

"Look," Ron was barely holding back his anger as he turned to Luna, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we – "

"Ron, Harry," I looked at both of them in turn. "When have my ideas ever proven wrong?"

They both paused for a moment. Though it wasn't for very long.

"What's your plan?" Harry said, his green eyes surprisingly dark.

"It's simple, isn't it, Andy," Luna laughed one of her insane laughs.

"Luna," Ron said warningly, "we are _not_ going to riding on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?"

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly," Luna said with the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice I had ever heard her use, "but _they_ can. And Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for."

Everyone whirled around to look at the empty patch of grass between two trees. Well, it was empty to most of us, that is. Harry's eyes suddenly lit up and he ran towards the spot, muttering under his breath. Harry reached out his hand to pet the two thestrals I knew were standing there

"Is it those mad horse things?" Ron said uncertainly, staring at a spot just left of where Harry was resting his arm. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, running his hand down the thestral's bony back.

"How many?"

"Just two."

"Well, we need four," Hermione said, looking a little shaken at the idea of riding a creature she couldn't see, but determined nonetheless.

"Five," Ginny said, scowling.

"I think there are seven of us, actually," Luna said calmly, quickly counting.

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" Harry said angrily. "Look, you three" – he pointed at Neville, Ginny, and Luna – "you're not involved in this." I paused as he said this. He had not pointed at me. Did he actually want me there? I wouldn't have thought twice about it had it not been for his comment before. I couldn't help the pleasant feeling that surged through my body.

They all burst into protests and Harry rubbed his scar again. Harder this time.

"Look," I said curtly. "We'll need all the help we can get, Harry." I was surprised he didn't fire back at me when I used the word 'we'.

"Okay, fine, it's your choice," Harry said in a sharp voice to the three of them. "But unless we can find more thestrals you're not going to be able to –"

"Oh, more will come," Ginny said confidently.

"What makes you think that?"

"You're both are covered in blood," I tossed my hand in Harry and Hermione's direction, who both looked down as if they had never noticed before, "and we know from Hagrid that raw meat lures thestrals, so that's probably why these two turned up. We just need to – "

"Look!" Luna said, smiling, "There are already four more coming!"

Everyone turned, even though Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were looking at an empty lot of weeds.

"Someone'll have to pair," Luna smiled, walking up to one. "They're strong enough."

Neville looked up expectantly at Ron, the closest person to the smaller Gryffindor at the moment. Ron pretended not to notice, flowing Luna's lead for once without complaint as she led him forward.

Harry paused when he noticed I still hadn't moved. He didn't look as angry as he had before, but still impatient.

"Andy, pick one."

"Harry, I –" Hermione was already on hers, clearly uncomfortable as she gripped onto thin air as if air life depended on it.

"What?" Harry hadn't meant to snap, I knew it, but he was just extremely agitated we hadn't left yet. I sighed, swallowing my pride so suddenly I could have sworn it made a noise.

"I can't see them."

It was true. Sure, I'd be able to describe the creatures into perfect detail, down to their silky manes to their piercing white eyes. But never before had I seen one. Including the entire time we had been talking about them in the field.

"You can't see them?" Harry asked. "But it was your idea in the –"

"Yes, I know it was my idea," I said angrily, a little mad he was just letting me stand there as I watched Ron clumsily mount a huge space above solid ground. The moment Luna had stepped away he had dug his knees tightly into what I could only guess was the thestral's side, looking incredibly idiotic floating in mid-air. "I knew it was the only way we were going to get there, but that didn't mean I had actually witnessed death before!"

This time I had snapped at him. Harry stared at me, having been about to jump on the back of his thestral. He looked around quickly. Neville was almost ready, still attempting to swing one short leg over the creature's back. Luna had already finished helping Ron and Hermione and Ginny mount their thestrals, and was now sitting sidesaddle upon hers. To me, the entire situation looked extremely odd. All five of them all looked like invisible ropes were suspending them.

"There's not another one," Harry said, holding out his hand. "Get on first. Quickly."

I took his hand gratefully, though I wasn't so keen when he helped me saddle the thing. I gasped as I felt the thestral move under me, running my fingers gingerly down its back. I reached out my hand cautiously, not exactly sure for the first time in months.

"This is so strange," I almost laughed. It _was_ awfully strange, but I wasn't exactly able to hold in my excitement as I gazed at the grass six feet below me. My breath caught in my throat as Harry climbed on, his strong arms wrapping around me as he situated himself on the creatures back. The thestral jerked suddenly, silky hair brushing along the side of my face as the creature settled under both our weights. Then, just as quickly, the thestral settled down, snorting loudly.

"It's alright," Harry said. I paused for a moment, confused until I realized I must have cried out, as Harry led my hands with his own until they found the creature's silky mane.

"I can do this," I said. Though it was mostly to myself as the creature moved again, my entire body jolting. My stomach turned unpleasantly as I thought about the _invisible_ thing taking off. With me on it's back.

"This is mad," Ron said behind us. "If only I could see it – "

"You'd better hope it stays invisible," Harry said darkly. "We all ready then?"

There was a silence as everyone prepared to be whisked into the air by giant, invisible, bony creatures. Harry turned towards the thestral we were on, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

"Ministry if Magic, visitor's entrance, London, then," Harry stopped, thinking for a moment. "Er . . . if you know . . . where to go . . ."

At first nothing happened. But I wasn't fooled. I gripped the poor creature with my knees so tightly I was afraid I'd hurt it, but I sure didn't care as the horse crouched slowly. I screwed my eyes shut, letting a whimper escape my lips a second before we were suddenly airborne. Harry's arms gripped my waist so tightly I almost lost my breath, his own legs hooking around mine to keep the both of us from slipping off the creature's slick backside. But I forced myself to open my eyes. And I wasn't disappointed.

We soared out into a blood red sunset, the lake glistening under us as the thestrals climbed higher into the sky. The wind rushed wildly into my face, whipping through my hair. We were over the grounds and then Hogwarts itself in a matter of seconds, the distance between us and the ground increasing with each beat of the thestral's wings. I heard the creature's easy breathing, felt its muscles contract underneath its sharp limbs. The feeling was amazing; except for the fact I was flying through the air with no visible means of support.

I looked down stupidly, glimpsing the tiny dots that were people in the town of Hogsmeade now that Hogwarts now leagues behind us. I cried out again, thinking I was about plunge to my death a moment before I remembered what I was riding on again, untangling my right hand of the thing's hair to claw at Harry's arm around my waist. Sure, the feeling was cool, but it was doing a great job in scaring the crap out of me.

"You okay?" I barely heard Harry's voice above the ripping wind, despite the fact I could feel his lips brush close to my ear.

I responded positively, but my voice was captured by the wind. Harry gripped me tighter, though I wasn't going to start complaining. Despite the fact I was flying a thousand feet up in the air on the back of an invisible animal, I felt safe. Though it was probably due to the fact I was pressed firmly against Harry's own body. So close, I could feel his chest constrict as he fought to keep us relatively secure upon the thestral's back. I didn't even think about the fact he was proabably sticky with Grawp's blood. Harry loosened one of his arms around my waist to grip my hand before pulling me even closer towards him.

"I don't think I ever thanked you,' Harry's words were barely above a whisper in my ear as the wind ate away at most of his words.

"No," I shook my head in case he hadn't heard me. "You didn't."

Harry didn't smile, but he didn't frown either. His expression was darker than I had ever seen it before, but also determined. My teasing smile melted off my face as I looked back at him, his eyes brighter than they'd ever been. I couldn't look away. How was it possible for someone's eyes to be _that_ green?

"Thanks," Harry muttered against my neck, his whole body tensing as the thestral jerked to the right. I paused for a moment, watching as the mountains and hills whipped past so quickly I felt as though we were travelling faster than any plane could. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"We'll find him."

I was immediately horrified, hopeful that Harry hadn't heard me. That, this time, the wind had again caught my words and was already throwing them towards the ground. How could I say such a thing? It wasn't a complete lie. Harry would find Sirius . . . minutes before . . .

But Harry had heard me. His chin finally rested upon my shoulder, and I felt his lips pull into a small smile.

I was thankful he couldn't see me. Couldn't see the guilt on my face. I felt like I was leading them into a trap. Betraying them. Betraying _Harry_. I knew his godfather was going to die. I knew he was about to lose the last family member he had ever known.

But I wasn't going to do anything to stop it.

I couldn't.

Harry's body slid closer to mine as the thestral dipped forward, the sun setting behind us.


	30. The Ministry of Magic

**_Disclaimer: _I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

We flew for what felt like hours. My face was starting to feel stiff and cold, my legs having already gone numb from gripping the thestral's invisible sides so tightly. Harry and I did not dare switch positions lest we slip . . . At first, the wind felt wonderful but now I was nearly deaf from the thundering in my ears. My mouth was dry and frozen from the rush of cold night air and I had lost all sense of how far we'd come.

Harry hadn't moved much since we had taken off, mostly staying as stiff as a statue. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. The thought of someone I loved . . . in the hands of that monster of a man . . .

My hand tightened around Harry's arm at the thought.

My stomach gave an unpleasant jolt. The thestral's head was suddenly pointing so directly toward the ground that we actually slid forward a few inches along its neck. A girl shrieked behind us and Harry turned quickly, but I knew it was from the sudden change in position probably from either Hermione or Ginny, as neither of them could see where the thing was going.

Bright orange lights were growing larger and rounder in front of us. I could see the tops of buildings, streams of headlights that were like luminous insect eyes, squares of pale yellow that were windows. A muggle city seemed like a boring memory next to castles and towers, but I felt the sharp pang of guilt and loneliness.

Quite suddenly, it seemed, we were hurtling towards the pavement. I didn't hold back my yelp of fright, unable to close my eyes as the ground rushed up to meet me. I gripped the thestral with every last ounce of strength I possessed, bracing for a crash landing. But the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow, able to slow us down a slip second before we ended up smashed against the pavement. I gasped, not even waiting for Harry to untangle his arms from around my waist before I jumped off the creatures back.

"Never again," Ron toppled off his thestral as soon as it came to a halt, falling onto the pavement in a heap. He made as though to jump away from the creature, but, unable to see it, collided hard with the invisible thing and almost fell over again. "Never, ever again . . . that was the worst – "

Hermione and Ginny touched down on either side of Ron, both getting off their mounts with a little more grace than he had. Though I did not miss the similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground. Neville jumped off, shaking, but Luna dismounted smoothly.

"Where do we go from here, then?" Luna said in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather fun day-trip.

It took only one glance to take everything in. It was tight, the buildings looming over us eerily. In one corner, there was an overflowing dumpster drained of color under the glare of the streetlights. But I paused as my eyes fell upon the vandalized telephone box.

"Over here," Harry said, snapping me back to the present. He hesitated to reach out into the air, patting it slightly. It took me a moment to remember the invisible thestral he must have been thanking silently. "Come _on_!"

The telephone booth was small. I followed in after Harry, who ushered the others in with an irritated voice when they hesitated. Ron and Ginny marched in obediently, Ginny already pressing me uncomfortably against the side. Hermione, Neville, and Luna squashed themselves in after them and it took me until I was securely pressed against the wall by Ron's back to remember it had been crammed with only six people. This was just insane.

"Whoever's nearest to the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry called, his voice coming from somewhere across the small space as Ginny's knee bumped into the back of my leg.

Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial. His elbow dug painfully into my side as he strained to punch in the number. As it finally whirled back into place a cool female voice sounded from inside the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state you name and business,"

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Andy Goodrich," Harry was talking so fast I barely understood what he was saying, "Ginny Weasley Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood . . . We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

It was almost a challenge, but the female voice just replied in a recorded, emotionless 'Thank you'.

"Please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

There was a grinding sound and suddenly a handful of badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Ginny scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Hermione's head, where he shoved them in his pocket without glancing.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine," Harry said loudly. "Now can we _move_?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. The pavement rose up past the glass windows, though it took me a moment to realize _we_ were the ones who were moving. Blackness soon closed over our heads, and with a dull grinding noise we sank down towards the Ministry of Magic.

A ray of soft gold light slipped through an opening in the blackness, hitting our fit and, widening, rose up our bodies. I reached for my wand, holding it as ready as I could in the cramped space, jerking back as I accidently poked Ginny in the hip when the telephone box gave a shudder.

No one was waiting for us in the Atrium, though I did stop to notice that the lighter was dimmer than it had been during the day. But there were still no lamps or fires burning under the mantelpieces lined into the walls.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice as the telephone box slid to a halt.

The door of the telephone box burst open and Neville toppled out of it. Luna and Ginny followed and I was grateful to finally be in my own space. I stepped out after Harry, who barely paused to glance around the place.

I didn't miss the gold fountain. Jets of water shot from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and the house-elf's ears. The wizard stood the tallest, his arm reaching upwards towards the heavens. All of the water gushed into the pool surrounding the five of them, also incased in a gold sheath.

"Come on," Harry said quietly, sprinting off down the hall. With Harry in the lead, we followed him quickly passed the fountain, towards a large security desk that was, at the moment, deserted. Harry's eyes lingered at the desk a moment too long, as if he was thinking about something. Maybe about how sketchy the whole situation was becoming. We hadn't exactly been the quietest people while running through the atrium. The fact that we seemed to be the only ones in the entire building was even enough to make Luna pause.

We were at the elevator lobby in moments. Harry pressed the nearest button and an elevator clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles sliding apart with a great, echoing clanking. Everyone paused as it came to a halt, glancing over their shoulders as if someone was going to come running. As soon as everyone was packed into the enclosed space again, Harry stabbed the number nine button and the grilles closed with a bang. We began descending slowly, jangling and rattling. I couldn't help thinking that, if these people where magical, why couldn't they find a more smoother way to travel within their own governmental building?

"Department of Mysteries," The cool female voice said as the elevator door slid open. I stepped out into the dark corridor after Ron, the torches that lined the walls on both sides flickering in the rush of air from the elevator.

I saw the plain black door the moment Harry turned his head towards it.

"Let's go," he whispered, as if he was afraid of disturbing anything. He led the way down the corridor again. I quickly walked passed Luna, who was gazing around with her mouth slightly open, to step beside him.

"Okay, listen," Harry stopped within six feet of the door. "Maybe . . . maybe a couple of people should stay here as a – as a lookout, and –"

"And how are we going to let you know something's coming," Ginny asked, her eyebrows raised. She saw right through him. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Harry," Neville said.

"Let's get on with it," Ron said firmly.

Harry paused, his eyes running quickly over al of us, before turning to face the door. He swung it open and marched over the threshold, all of us at his heels.

We were in a large, circular room. Everything was black. Black walls, a black ceiling with matching tiles upon the floor. Handle-less black doors were set at intervals, interspersed with branches of candles that burned blue flames, making it look as if we were submerged in dark water.

"Someone shut the door," Harry muttered.

As soon as Neville obeyed his command, we were plunged into a deeper darkness as the torch-lit corridor behind us disappeared. In my dream, as well as Harry's, I had walked purposefully across the room to the door immediately opposite the entrance we had just walked through. I gazed ahead of me, trying to decide on which door was the right one, when there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The curved wall was rotating.

I grabbed Harry's arm as if the floor would start rotating too, but it did not. For a few seconds the blue flames around us blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around. Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became still again.

"What was that about?" Ron whispered fearfully.

"To keep us from knowing which door we cam in from," I said ominously. Even though I knew what we were doing, unlike every other single person in the room, there was no way I was going to be of any help. The longer I looked at the doors, the more I became confused. All of the doors were the same, all of them the eerie plain black. The door we had entered could have been any of the dozen that surrounded us now. I had no clue.

"How're we going to get back out?" Neville was clearly uncomfortable, even though I couldn't see him.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," Harry said forcefully, his face pale in the flickering blue candlelight. "We won't need to get out till we've found Sirius – "

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione said urgently, her wise brown eyes appearing slightly grey. But her advice was a bit redundant. I knew Harry wanted to stay quiet for as long as possible.

"Where do we go, then, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I don't – " Harry swallowed. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room – that's this one – and then I went through another door into a room that kind of . . . glitters. We should try a few doors," he added hastily, clearly not wanting everyone to catch on that he was just as clueless as we all were. "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

He marched at the door directly in front of us, pushing his left hand against its cool, shining surface. We all raised our wands in a synchronized motion that would have been comical If not for the suspense of what could be waiting for us.

There were no glittering lights as Harry had described, but I knew better at what he was trying to describe. The room itself was empty expect for a few desks and, in the very middle, an enormous glass tank of deep-green water, big enough for all of us to swim in. I didn't miss the pearly white objects that were drifting around lazily in the liquid. The moment my eyes had locked onto the tank, I knew immediately what I was looking at. I wasn't horribly disgusted at first, only a bit curious. But the more I got closer, the more the other feeling was beginning to suppress my curiosity.

"What are those?" Ron's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Dunno," Harry was just as mesmerized as the rest of us.

"Are they fish?" Ginny breathed, inclining her head to gaze into the tall tank as we stepped closer.

"Aquavirius maggots!" Luna shouted excitedly. "Dad said the Ministry – "

"No," I cut Luna off a bit sooner than Hermione was supposed to. "They're brains."

"Brains?"

"Yes," Hermione moved forward to stand at the side of the tank, "I wonder what they're doing with them?"

I glanced away quickly, not really wanting to watch the brains drift eerily in and out of sight in the murky green water, looking something like slimy cauliflowers.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said, and I wasted no time turning to follow him. "This isn't right, we need to try another door – "

"There are doors here too," Ron pointed to the walls. Sure enough, long black doors were lined up evenly, gleaming in the strange lighting. My heart sank looking at them. How big was this place?

"In my dream I went through that dark room into a second one," Harry said. "I think we should go back and try from there."

We followed him back into the large, circular room.

"Wait!" I cried, remembering something as Luna made to close the door behind us. "_Flagrate_!" I slashed out with my wand quickly to make a fiery X upon the back of the door. No sooner than it had appeared, the rumbling sound started again, the walls beginning to revolve. Now, instead of just the faint blue, a great red-gold blur as the room spun at a rate that made my head spin. But as everything became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing us what door we had already tried.

"Good think – " Harry started, but was cut off by Hermione.

"How do you do that?"

I was so stunned by her outburst I did not have a reply.

"What, Hermione?" Harry seemed as confused as I was.

Then I realized. It was a little tiresome; waiting for something to happen you already knew was coming. Something so simple it didn't really matter if a couple of seconds were knocked off. I had assumed the same for the spell I had just used, though I had been unaware to the fact Hermione had raised her wand to conjure the same spell a mere second after I had.

"What?" I smiled innocently, though it was probably extremely fake looking. "The spell?"

"Hermione, it's not really that difficult of a –" Harry was cut off once again.

"It's not that!" Hermione turned. "Every time I try to do something, you always beat me to it! Not always, naturally," Hermione glared as Ron snickered, "but just now even. I can swear I was just about to say the same thing."

I shrugged stupidly, as if that was going to answer all of her questions.

"It's not like you are the only one here with _brains_, Hermione," Ron said bravely before laughing at his own comment. Hermione whirled again before sighing angrily and shoving her wand into her robe pocket.

"That's not what – I didn't mean – " for once in her life, Hermione seemed at a loss of words. "I was just . . . it's not the first time you've seemed to have read my mind, Andy," her eyes were softer when she looked up at me again. "Sometimes, I swear . . . I swear you are psychic or something."

"Stranger things have happened," I could not believe what was coming out of my mouth. _Really_?

Everyone looked at me funny for a moment, not that I could blame them. I was almost creeping myself out, answering questions with something worse than another question. Thankfully Harry turned to push open another door and the tangible suspense swept over everyone so quickly I couldn't even remember moments after what our conversation had been about.

This room was larger than the last, though it was still dimly lit in strange lighting. But, unlike the other, the center of the rectangular room dropped to form a great stone pit some twenty feet below us. It reminded me of amphitheater, or a large out-of-date courtroom. In the center of the lowered floor, upon a dais, stood a stone archway that looked so ancient and cracked that it would crumble in mere seconds. It was unsupported by any surrounding wall but it still supported a tattered black curtain, which, despite the complete stillness of the cold air, was fluttering as if it had just been touched. My sharp intake of breath did not go unnoticed as Ginny and Ron turned to give me a curious glance as a low, new voice echoed off the stone benches surrounding the archway.

"Who's there?" Harry jumped down onto the next level.

"Careful" Hermione and I both called at the same time, but my voice quickly overpowered hers. Unlike her, for the first time, I was _sure_ of what would happen if Harry got too close.

Harry scrambled down the bench like steps one by one until he reached the bottom. I didn't waste any time running after him, though no one else followed my lead. Hermione stopped halfway down, her face pale.

"Sirius?"

Harry's footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller now that we were standing so close. Still, the curtain swayed gently, as though somebody had passed through it. Gripping his wand tightly, Harry peered around the side of the archway as if he was expecting something.

"Harry," I said gently but while placing my hand over his arm, "let's go."

"This isn't right," Hermione called over my shoulder, seemingly unwilling to walk any closer towards the archway. Not that I could blame her.

I would be lying if I had said I wasn't the least bit interested in the rippling veil in front in me. And I didn't miss the sudden urge to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

"Harry, let's go, okay?" I snapped myself out of it.

"Okay," Harry answered, but he didn't move.

"What are you saying?" Harry said so loudly I jumped as his voice echoed all around the surrounding benches.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" Hermione said forcefully, moving down a few steps.

"I can hear them too," Luna appeared at my shoulder. "There are people _in_ _there_!"

"There isn't any '_in_ _there_,' it's just an archway, there no room for anybody to be there – Harry, stop it, come away – " I demanded, my voice more clipped than it should have been in a situation like that. I pulled roughly on Harry's arm, but he resisted.

"Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!" That struck something. Harry turned towards me, blinking as if he was confused.

"Yeah . . . " He turned back once more, still mesmerized by the curtain. Moving so quickly I almost tripped over him, Harry took several paces away from the dais and wrenched his gaze from the veil.

"Let's go."

"That's what I've been trying to – ah, never mind," I led him, Hermione and Luna around the dais to where Ginny and Ron stood before the archway, apparently entranced. Grabbing both of their arms wordlessly, I dragged the two Weasley siblings halfway up the steps until they realized what I was doing.

"What do you reckon that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as we were back in the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was it was dangerous," This time she drew the fiery cross upon the door before the wall started moving again. Dangerous wasn't even the word. Deadly, was more like it.

When the wall stopped moving Harry approached a door at random and pushed. He almost ran into the door when it instead refused to open.

"What's wrong?" Hermione said.

"It's . . . locked . . . " Harry threw his weight at the door in between each word. The door would not budge.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" Ron said excitedly, joining Harry in his attempt to force the door open. "Bound to be!"

"Get out of the way!" Hermione said sharply, raising her wand to a place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door. "_Alohomora_!"

Of course nothing happened.

"Sirius's knife!" Harry burst, pulling it out form inside his robes. He reached forward to slide it into the crack between the door and the wall, but my hand was on his arm before he could reach it.

"Wait!" I cried out. If Harry used it, I knew the tip of his knife would be melted beyond repair. Out of everything I wanted to stop, wanted to change, it was his knife. But maybe wanted was not the correct word. I _wanted_ to stop everything. Stop myself or anyone else from going any further into this . . . _trap_. Everyone paused, Harry just looking at me with the most incredulous expression, staring at my fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"If – if –" I stammered, cursing mentally for putting myself in the spotlight again. I thought up something quick. A thing I was getting unfortunately good at. "It – it's a magical door, Harry," I tried to sound disapproving, like I was chastising him. Like I knew what I was talking about. "I'd think that if Hermione's spells didn't work, neither would your enchanted knife. But you yourself said that all you had to do was walk through the door. This couldn't be it. We would be wasting out time trying to pry it open."

Without even an answer, I knew I had said the right thing. Harry paused, his arm sagging a little as he weighed his options. Hermione nodded beside me, drawing another cross. Harry dropped his arm, lowering his eyes as the wall began to spin for the last time. I stopped next to him as the wall slowed, sensing his growing frustration. Reaching out with my own, I gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze, feeling the hilt of Sirius's knife against my fingers as it still rested in his grasp. Harry did not respond but his hand was still holding mine when he pushed open the new black door that was in front of us.

"_This is it_!"

I also knew at once by the beautiful, diamond-sparkling light. Harry let go of my hand as he jumped over the threshold, the forgotten knife dropping into my palm. I quickly pocketed it, not giving it a second thought as Ron prodded me after Luna, who was twirling around in the dancing light. Clocks were gleaming form every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room. A busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

"This way!'

I could barely keep up with Harry as he sped down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading for the source of the light. As we got closer, I realized the crystal jar as that was as large as Ron appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

"Oh look!" Ginny squealed, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the current, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again and by the time it had been pushed back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"It's beautiful," I craned my neck as the egg was lifted into the wind again, cracks already maiming its glittering shell.

"Keep going," Harry said sharply, yanking on my arm roughly.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" Ginny said crossly, and I couldn't help grinning at her smart mouth.

"This it is," Harry was beginning to repeat himself as we neared another door. "It's through here –"

Harry stopped suddenly, glancing anxiously back towards us. Hermione had drawn her wand long ago, but now Neville and Ron held theirs tightly, gazing at the looming door. I instinctively reached for mine, the slight warmth instantly spreading though my fingers as I brushed the handle. Harry turned back towards the door after drawing his own and pushed.

It was exactly how the vision had been. The high ceilings, the room full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from candles set at intervals throughout the shelves. Like those in the circular room, their flames were burning blue.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," whispered Hermione. I drew my wand fully then. The room was unnaturally cold, the flames doing nothing to help penetrate the chill. Though I was also guessing that I was not just feeling the numbness in my limbs because of the sudden drop of temperature. The chill I also felt from knowing we weren't the only ones in the room was starting to creep up my arms as I raised my wand, the glowing tip casting eerie shadows.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, looking up at the closest row. Beneath a blue-glowing candle protruded the glimmering sliver number FIFTY-THREE.

"We need to go right," I whispered. "I think," I added quickly.

"Yes," Hermione squinted at the next row. "Yes . . . that's fifty-four . . . "

"Keep your wands out," Harry said softly, though I really doubted he had to tell us. There was something about the room that made my skin crawl.

The further we walked, the darker it became. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb in the shelf. Some had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark with as blown light bulbs. We passed row eighty-four . . . eighty-five . . . my pulse was starting to quicken. My heart was almost ready to jump out of my chest. We were all listening hard for any movements. Harry and the rest of them for his godfather, me for . . .

"Ninety-seven," I stared at the silver number nailed to the shelf. It seemed to laugh at me in the dull light, constantly going from shaded to being bathed in the dancing eerie blue light.

We stood grouped at the end of the row, all gazing down the dark alley.

No one was there.

"He's right down at the end," Harry said dryly. "You can't see properly from here . . . "

He led us down forward, between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as we passed.

"He should be here," Harry whispered, staring wildly at the floor. He turned quickly before starting down the aisle again.

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively, but he did not respond.

"Somewhere about . . . here . . ."

We had reached the end of the row and emerged once more into the blue candlelight. There was nobody there at all. All was echoing, dusty silence.

"He might be . . . " Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the alley next to us. "Or maybe . . ."

"Harry?" Hermione said again.

"What?" Harry snarled, his voice making me jump as it bounced through the empty darkness.

"I . . . I don't think Sirius is here."

Nobody spoke. She had said what they all had wanted to say. What _I _had been unable to say. Harry did not look at us, his face clouded by the dark shadows that infested the giant space. He began searching the next rows quickly, running back and forth in an attempt to find the impossible.

"Harry," I called softly.

"_What_?"

I hated the way he had said it, but I bit my tongue. I knew he expected me to tell him he had been stupid, that I would suggest we ought to go back to Hogwarts. But I had been looking for it the moment we had stepped into the row. It had been a bit hard to find, as all of the orbs looked alike except for the consistency of the glowing mist within them. But the moment my eyes had fallen upon it, my heart had skipped as if I had been frightened. Ron stepped up behind me, peering over my shoulder.

"Have you seen this?" I didn't have to turn to know Harry was already running up.

"What?" his voice was eager this time.

"It's – " Ron paused. "It's got your name."

I stepped out of the way to let Harry crane his neck towards the glass sphere that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for years.

"My name?" Harry said blankly.

The yellow label had been present right underneath the glass ball, written in the spidery writing:

_S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D._

_Dark Lord_

_and (?) Harry Potter_

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved while glancing at the other labels that stretched along the shelf. "What's your name doing down here?"

As I stared at the letters, knowing exactly what they stood for, I couldn't help the uneasiness that settled into the pit of my stomach.

"I'm not here," he said, sounding perplexed. "None of us are here . . ."

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," Hermione said sharply as he stretched out his hand.

I had begun to glance around. The darkness was shifting. The shadows had always been moving. Watching us. The pale light around the tip of my wand glowed slightly brighter at the thought. Something moved behind me and I whirled. Or maybe it had just been my imagination. But I had doubted it.

"Why not?" Harry said. "It's got something to do with me."

"Don't, Harry," said Neville suddenly. His round face was shinning slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense. As if he was the one to talk about that.

"It's got my name on it," Harry said simply.

It was never too late to stop something, was it?

Harry's hand closed around the dusty surface of the glass ball. The light still shined dully through the gaps between his fingers, and Harry stared at it in wonder as he brought it up to his face. We all stepped in for a closer look and even I forgot the enclosing darkness for a moment, entranced by the glowing prophecy orb.

And then, right on cue from behind me, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."


	31. A Battle in the Department of Mysteries

**_Disclaimer: _I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

"To me, Potter," Lucius Malfoy repeated in his drawling voice, his hand held out, palm up.

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around us, blocking any way out of row ninety-seven. Eyes glinted through slits in black hoods, a dozen lit wand tips pointing directly at our hearts. Behind me, Ginny gave a gasp of horror. Harry readjusted his position, gripping the prophecy tighter in his grasp as he held out his wand arm to push me behind him as the shadows closed in.

My insides plummeted sickeningly. We were trapped and outnumbered two to one.

"To me," Malfoy said again.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry snapped, the glass orb still held tightly in his own hand.

Several of the Death Eaters laughed. I turned away, glancing at the other figures holding Ron and Hermione at bay. The guilt I felt for letting everything go this far was being suppressed by the reality of the danger before us. I had no doubt when I had read this scene that none of the Death Eaters wished to leave any one of them alive if they had the choice. Now, standing at the mercy of those same Death Eaters, I was deeply rethinking my ingenious plan of not interfering. Now I was realizing standing by to watch was only so much worse.

A harsh female voice from the shadows on my left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," Malfoy echoed softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"_I want to know where Sirius is_!" Bellatrix Lestrange mimicked in her high-pitched, horrible girly voice. I cringed physically, shying away behind Harry. Standing in front of them, in front of Voldemort's best assassins and duelers . . . suddenly my wand didn't seem so powerful anymore as I brought it uselessly up towards one of the hooded criminals. The Death Eaters were moving again, mere feet from us, so close that the light from their wands blinded my eyes.

"You've got him," Harry said. He was doing a great job at hiding his rising panic, though I didn't miss the slight tremble of his wand. Neither did Bellatrix. "He's here. I know he is."

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," Bellatrix said in a shrieking, mock-baby voice. Beside me, I felt Ron stir.

"Don't do anything," I muttered, slightly amazed my tongue could for words.

"Who's that?" Bellatrix cried, stepping forward so quickly Neville jumped. "Is that - ?" She moved forward, her wand whirling to point at the middle of my face. Harry tensed in front of me, thrusting his own wand in between them. Bellatrix stopped, reaching back with her free hand to drop her hood. Life in Azkaban had not done her any good in the beauty department. Anyone could tell she had once been beautiful; her sunken eyes may have once shined or her matted hair wasn't always so thin and receding. Her skull-like face was gaunt in the thin light, but it was alive with a feverish glow.

"Yes, why of course it is!" Bellatrix laughed, her voice ringing through the empty chamber. I was frozen, shocked that I was looking one of the most deranged characters in the face. "Little Goodrich, isn't it?"

My entire body froze with fear. My blood turned to ice. I was so stunned I could have stopped breathing for all I knew. The woman had said my name . . . like she _knew_ me.

Harry didn't risk turning around to look at me, but I sensed him tense. Everyone around me was anxious; even Luna seemed to realize to dire situation we were in.

"How do you – how do you know my _name_?" I regretted speaking the moment my voice had cracked, but something was nagging at me. I couldn't shake off the feeling something was horribly wrong. The moment that bloodthirsty nutbag had opened her mouth, my name coming past her lips, I had known there was something different. Too bad I didn't realize that _different_ a word I was going to use often in the next twenty-four hours.

"The Dark Lord always knows!" Bellatrix hackled again in the same jeering tone, finally dropping her wand from the spot where it had rested even with my nose.

"I know Sirius is here," I was thankful Harry had managed to pull Bellatrix's estranged gaze away from me, but that didn't mean we were safe yet. "_I know you've got him!_"

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though Bellatrix still laughed the loudest of all.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

My heart sank at Malfoy's words, but Harry seemed to straighten, bringing his own wand up to chest height.

"Go on, then," Harry snarled. As he raised his wand, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna rose on either side of him. My own wand was pointed blindly into the thick darkness. If I did have to use it, which I knew was going to come up soon, I really wasn't picky about what I hit. I tensed, every muscle in my body on a wire.

But the Death Eaters did not strike.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," Malfoy said.

It was Harry's turn to laugh.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this – prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Bellatrix raised her wand. "_Accio Proph_ – "

But Harry was ready for her.

"_Protego_!" Harry just managed to deflect her spell, his hand being pulled forward as he fought to keep the orb in his hand.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," Bellatrix gasped as if she was out of breath, rocking from side to side slightly. "Very well, then – "

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius roared, forcefully stopping her. "If you smash it – "

Bellatrix stepped forward, seemingly uncaring about Malfoy's outburst as she pushed his arm out of her way. "You need more _persuasion_?" She stopped in front of Harry, her black eyes piercing.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he spoke directly to Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So, what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

"Oh?" Bellatrix shifted her weight quickly, cocking her head insanely to the side. Her black eyes slid over Harry's shoulder to meet mine. "Goodrich, didn't tell all your _wittle_ _fwiends_?" She slipped back into her horrible mock-baby voice again.

"What is she talking about?" Harry risked a glance in my direction when I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. Bellatrix was smiling an awful, gapped grin. My limbs were ice. My tongue was lead.

Bellatrix laughed again, several black figures joining her.

"The Dark Lord always knows," Bellatrix twirled her wand, mumbling insanely. "_Always _ . . ."

"I asked you," Harry whipped his wand around, catching Bellatrix off guard. "What kind of prophecy?"

"What kind of prophecy?" Bellatrix repeated, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," Harry said while his eyes flicked from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through we could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it."

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix whispered, cringing as if the word would cause her harm.

"Yeah," Harry was maintaining his grip on the glass ball. "Yeah, I've got no problem saying Vol –"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked so loud I jumped. "You dare speak his name on your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare – "

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry said recklessly. Hermione moaned softly beside me. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle – or has be been telling you lot he's a pureblood?"

"_STUPEF_ –"

"_NO!"_

A jet or red light shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell hit hers quickly; the jet of red light shattered several orbs a foot to Harry's left. Two figures, pearly white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, uncurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor. Their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

" _. . ._ _at the Solstice will come a new . . _." said the figure of an old, bearded man.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dare – he dares – " Bellatrix shrieked incoherently. " – He stands there – fifthly half-blood – "

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy bellowed.

The other strand of mist whispered softly before fading into the dark. Nothing remained upon the floor but the fragments of glass. But I knew the moment Harry had glanced down that they had given him an idea. I wanted to pass it on to the others, to maybe get us out of here quicker, but I was frightened of attracting Bellatrix's unwanted attention again.

"You never told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," I knew Harry was just playing for time.

"Do not play games with us, Potter," Malfoy said, his dark hood shadowing most of his expression.

"I'm not playing games."

Something closed over the tip of my right foot, pressing down hard. I gasped, my heart skittering for a moment until I felt Harry's own heel slide away quietly.

I didn't risk whispering back. Bellatrix was watching me again, her eerie gaze haunting.

"Dumbledore never told you that the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Malfoy sneered. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of Draco's smirk underneath the shadow of his hood.

"I – what?"

"_What_?" I couldn't take it any longer and Malfoy's question had clearlycaught Harry off guard.

"Can this be?" Malfoy sounded maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again. Harry jerked his head to the side quickly, as if he was tuning to watch Bellatrix's face contort as she doubled over in laughter. Under the cover of the sound, Harry moved his lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves – "

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why – "

" – when I say go – "

" – you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording . . ."

It took me a while to realize what he was talking about, but Harry didn't seem to understand at all.

"Did he?" Harry said. As quickly and inconspicuously as I could, I passed on the plan to Ron. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

"Why?" Malfoy was extremely excited. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him."

"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?"

"About the both of you, Potter, about the both of you . . . Haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?"

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort . . . and me?" Harry said quietly. His fingers tightened around the glass orb again, dust trailing through his fingers. "And he's made me get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" Bellatrix hackled with mad laughter again. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

"So he's got you doing the dirty work for him, has he?" Harry said. Like he tired to get Sirius to steal it – and Bode?"

"Very good, Potter, very good . . ." Malfoy said slowly. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell – "

"NOW!"

Five different voices around me bellowed "REDUCTIO!" I raised my own wand, pointing to a spot above Bellatrix's head, at the shelf of orbs right next to her face. My voice melted into one with the others as six jets of light flew in different directions. The towering shelves opposite of is swayed as hundreds of glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures drifting into the air, floating as their voices echoed from a long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor –

"RUN!" Harry yelled as the shelves swayed precariously and glass spheres began to pour from above. I had no trouble agreeing with him, my feet slipping on the slick ground. Harry seized the back of my robes and dragged me forward as a group of orbs shattered to the ground at my feet. I raised one arm over my head as shards of glass thundered down upon us. A Death Eater lunged forward through a cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face. Everyone was yelling, there were cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves. Any preparation for this plan would have still left me as good off as being blind. It was a game of luck.

The cloud of shattered glass cleared for a moment and I spotted Ron, Ginny, and Luna sprint past me, their arms over their heads. Something heavy struck the side of my face and I felt the skin break, but I pushed myself on, pulling on Harry's sleeve as a shelf came down beside us.

We finally reached the end of the row and, turning the corner, began to sprint in earnest. Behind me, I heard Hermione's voice urging Neville on. The door through which we had come in was ajar straight ahead. The loud echo of footsteps was right behind us, ringing through the chamber with the sound of shattering glass. I jumped over the threshold, skittering out of the way until Hermione burst though, Neville hot on her heels. I slammed the door shut as hard as I could –

"_Colloportus_!" Hermione shouted as the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where – where are the others?" Harry gasped.

"They must have gone the wrong way," I gasped, bracing my hands upon my knees. In the chaos, I had forgotten that the group would be split up. With the collapsing shelves and exploding objects that turned out to be as sharp as knives, I had been preoccupied with keeping glass out of my eyes.

"Listen!" Neville whispered.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door we had just sealed. Harry put his ear up to the door to listen. I followed his lead, catching Malfoy's irritated voice from the other side of the wooden door that separated us. "Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split up into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary – "

Harry pushed himself away before Malfoy could talk again, turning to answer something Hermione had asked.

" – Rookwood, over there – And don't forget about Goodrich! The Dark Lord is not finished, and we have specific orders to leave her alive – Mulciber, come with me!"

I jumped away from the door as if it had shocked me. Voldemort wanted me alive. The man who killed Muggleborns and Muggles for fun, who had a death wish on the boy I couldn't see myself living without, wanted me alive. Some part of me knew I would better off if he wanted me dead.

"ANDY!" Harry shouted, bringing me back to reality. I whirled around and Harry's expression suddenly dropped.

"Andy," he repeated, but more gently this time, despite the situation. "What's wrong, are you hurt?"

I had to remind myself to breath. "Me? I'm just spiffy."

Harry scowled deeply, disapproving my sarcastic tone. "We can't stay here waiting for them to find us. Let's get away from this door."

We ran as quietly as we could, past the shimmering bell jar and towards the circular hallway. I weaved through desks, jumping over benches. We were almost there when I heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

"Stand aside," said a rough voice. "_Alohomora!_"

As the door flew open, we all dived under desks. I could see the bottom of the two Death Eater's robes as they drew nearer, their feet moving rapidly. I slapped a hand over my own mouth, trying to suppress my panting as much as possible.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the Death Eater with the rough voice.

"Check under the desks."

I saw the Death Eater's knees bend. Poking my wand out from under my desk I shouted, "_STUPEFY!"_

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater in the gut; he fell backward into a grandfather clock, knocking it over. The second Death Eater jumped aside to avoid my spell, now pointing his want at Hermione, who had crawled out from under her desk to get a better aim.

"_Avada- _"

Harry launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing his aim to go awry. With a crash, Neville upturned his desk, pointing his want at Harry and the struggling Death Eater.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands and soared back towards the room we had left in pieces. Both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater pushing Harry aside. Neville stood over his fallen desk, horrorstruck at what he had done.

"Get out of the way!" I yelled, jumping up and sliding over the top of a desk as I took aim at the Death Eater. Harry flung himself sideways as the man stooped to grab his wand.

"_STUPEFY_!"

The jet of red light hit the Death Eater squarely in the chest as he turned around to deflect my spell, his wand arm too slow. With a clatter he collapsed backward towards the bell jar. I expected to hear a clunk, for the man to hit solid glass and slide off the bell jar and onto the floor, but instead, his head sank through the surface as though it was nothing but a soap bubble.

"_Accio Wand_!" Hermione yelled from my right. Harry's wand flew from a dark corner into her hand and she threw it at him.

"Thanks. Now, let's get out of – "

Harry's last words were drowned by the sound of an awful scream from a room nearby, followed by a crash.

"RON?" Harry bellowed, leaping over a stray clock upon the floor. "GINNY? LUNA?"

"Come on!" I shouted, sprinting for the other door at the end of the room. We had run halfway towards it when the door behind us burst open again and two more Death Eaters sprinted in. Harry pushed ahead of me, veering left and bursting into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the thin door behind us.

"_Collo_ – " Hermione didn't get to the spell in time. The door splintered open and the Death Eaters came hurtling inside. With a cry of triumph, both yelled, "_IMPEDIMENTA_!"

The spell hit me like a brick wall. We were all thrown backwards off our feet, Neville disappearing over the desk, Hermione smashing into a bookcase, and Harry's head slammed into the stone wall behind him. I toppled into a stray chair, my side catching on the armrest as I came crashing to the floor.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" yelled a Death Eater nearest Harry. He reached forward, taking advantage of Harry's stunned state. "IN AN OFFICE OFF – "

"_Silencio_!" Hermione tossed books off of her as she scrambled to her feet, and the man's voice cracked. His mouth continued to move through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out.

"_Petrificus_ _Totalus_!" Harry shouted and the second Death Eater dropped to the floor as his arms and legs snapped together. He fell at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move at all.

"Well done, Harr – "

But the Death Eater Hermione had silenced made a sudden slashing movement with his wand. I threw the chair off of me. It all happened before I could pull myself up to my feet.

I didn't see the streak of purple flame, but the color danced off the walls, illuminating the room. I rolled over, my feet tangling under me as I fought to get my legs steadied. Harry's yell seemed to pause in the air as Hermione crumpled to the floor in front of the bookcase, her face hidden under a mess of bushy hair. Her arm dropped to the ground with a heavy sound, fingers curled limply. She didn't move.

"HERMIONE!"

Harry fell to his knees beside her as my feet finally caught friction. Neville crawled toward Hermione from under his desk, wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville's head as he emerged, Neville's wand breaking as the man's foot connected with his face. Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose. The Death Eater ripped off his mask, stepping forward to thrust his wand in Harry's undefended face as he cradled Hermione's unconscious body in his arms.

I rose unsteadily, my wand feeling heavy in my hand. The Death Eater stood with his back to me, unaware I was even behind him.

"Like you won't kill us the moment I hand it over anyway!" Harry yelled. His eyes slipped under the Death Eater's arm to meet mine. I raised my wand before the man could even turn around.

"STUPEFY!"

The man I realized was Dolohov dropped to the ground like a sack of flour. Neville came back out from under his desk, removing his hand to show he had clearly broken his nose and the blood pouring down his mouth and chin. I sighed, giving Dolohov's body one last glare before rushing to Harry's side.

"Hermione," Harry was saying as I drew closer. "Hermione, wake up . . ."

"Whaddid he do to her?" Neville gasped, blood streaming rapidly from his nose.

"I dunno . . ."

"She's not dead, Harry," I knelt down beside him, my hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a very convincing statement. The way Hermione had fallen made a Stupefy curse seem like child's play.

"She's not?" Harry looked up at me, his voice cracking.

"No, I promise," I reached out and grabbed Hermione's wrist, pressing my fingers against her skin. "See, I can feel a pulse."

Harry exhaled, as if a large burden had been lifted from his shoulders. At that moment there were more footsteps, pairs and pairs coming closer.

"Neville, we are not far from the exit," Harry whispered. "We're right next to that circular room . . . If we can just get you across it and find the right door before the Death Eater's come, I'll bet you can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift . . . Then you can find someone . . . Raise the alarm . . ."

"And whad are you going to do?" Neville was mopping up his bleeding nose with his sleeve and failing miserably.

"I've got to find the others."

"We can all find them together," I said, glancing over my shoulder as another shout rang through the hall. I knew that the success to getting us all out of here, alive, was to stay together, despite what Harry said.

"But Hermione – "

"We'll dake her wib us," Neville said firmly. "I'll carry her – you're bedder at fighting dem I ab – "

Neville cut himself off as he stood and seized one of Hermione's arms, glared at Harry, who hesitated, then grabbed the other and helped hoist Hermione's limp from over Neville's shoulders.

"Wait," I said, snatching up Hermione's fallen wand from the floor and shoving it into Neville's hand. "You'll need this . . ."

Neville kicked aside the broken fragments of his old wand as we walked slowly towards the door. "My gran's going do kill be. Dat was by dad's old wand . . ."

The room was empty. We crept out of the office and back towards the door and the black hallway, which was seemingly completely deserted. The door shut behind us as Neville teetered through, staggering slighting due to Hermione's weight. The walls started spinning again and with a sinking heart I realized Hermione's crosses had faded from the doors.

"So which way d'you reck – "

Before Harry could even think about picking a door, the one to our right sprang open. I brought my wand up so fast it made an audible sound.

"Ron!" Harry croaked, dashing towards them. "Ginny – are you all – "

"Harry," Ron giggled weakly and I knew immediately something was wrong with him. He lurched forward, grabbing the front of Harry's robes, gazing at him with unfocused eyes. "There you are . . . Ha ha ha . . .You look funny, Harry . . . You're all messed up . . . "

Ron's face was very white and something dark was tricking from the corner of his mouth. The next moment his knees gave way, but Ron still refused to let go of Harry's robes, forcing Harry into some kind of bow as Ron fell.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny was shaking her head. She slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken. I heard something crack," Luna whispered, the only one who seemed to be unhurt. "They chased us into a room full of planets, it was very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark – "

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" Ron was still giggling. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus – Ha ha ha – "

Ron's joke would have made anyone laugh feebly if it wasn't for the bubble of blood that was forming in the corner of his mouth.

"One of them grabbed Ginny's foot and I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but . . ."

"What about Ron," I attempted to pull the ginger to his feet as he still continued to hang off the front of Harry's robes.

"I don't know what they hit him with, but he's gone a bit funny," Luna said sadly.

"Harry," Ron yanked Harry's ear down to his mouth, giggling again, "you know who this is, Harry? She's Loony . . . Loony Lovegood . . ."

"We've got to get out of here," Harry said firmly. "Luna, can you help Ginny?"

"Yes," Luna stuck her wand behind her ear for safekeeping before wrapping her arm around Ginny's waist to help her up. Harry dragged Ron's arm over his own shoulder as another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped forward, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"_There they are!_"

Stunning spells shot across the room. I managed to knock one Death Eater to the ground before Neville shoved me through the door Harry had opened, grunting as Hermione slid around his shoulders. We were all over the threshold in time to slam the door in Bellatrix's face.

"_Colloportus!_" I shouted, hearing three bodies slam into the door on the other side a spilt second after the door sealed itself.

"It doesn't matter," someone was shouting. "There are other ways in – WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

It was the Brain Room. The room that was also lined with doors. More footsteps sounded behind the sealed door as more Death Eaters joined the first.

"Andy – Luna – Neville – help me!"

All four of us tore around the room, sealing doors as quickly as we could. I jumped over a table in my haste to reach a door in time, sliding on the smooth floor.

"_Colloportus_!"

Footsteps were running behind the doors, bodies being thrown against them. The doors would creak but they would still hold. I ran past Luna to charm a line of doors ahead of her. The moment I paused to raise my wand, Luna cried out as she was flew across the room. She skid to a stop, sprawled upon the ground in front of a desk, as still as Hermione.

Death Eaters were surging out of the door she had not reached in time.

"GET POTTER!" Bellatrix shrieked, running at him.

"Hey!" Ron had stood and was now standing, wobbling drunkenly towards Harry, giggling. "Hey, Harry, there are _brains_ in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

I Stunned a Death Eater who had trailed last through the door. Unfortunately, it made the one in front of him turn around, his metal face gleaming in a permanent sick grin.

"Honest, Harry," I heard Ron shout over the noise. "They're brains – look – _Accio Brain!_"

"RON, NO!" I shrieked, being forced to defend myself as the Death Eater slashed at me with another curse.

Everyone froze to look at the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish. For a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared toward Ron, spinning as it came.

The moment it made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like rope.

"Harry, look what's happen – no – no, I don't like it – no, stop – _stop_ – "

But the tentacles were spinning around Ron's chest now. He tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an octopus's body.

"_Diffindo_!" I heard Harry shout as I ducked around the tank to avoid a red jet of light. Ginny was yelling, but her voice was cut off suddenly.

"STUBEFY! STUBEFY!" Neville was shouting, but I knew nothing was occurring. The side of the tank sparked as the Death Eater's Stun hit the glass. I jumped, running around to the far side as Ginny hit the floor, taking a Stun straight to the face.

Harry ran for it as Bellatrix sprinted after him as he held the prophecy high above his head. I tackled Neville as a Death Eater shot a spell that left a crater in the wall where Neville's arm had been. By the time I had dragged Neville to his feet, the room had already cleared, everyone trailing after Harry and Bellatrix.

"Neville," I panted, "stay here . . . help . . . Ron . . ."

"Wbat about – "

"I'll find Harry," I cut him off, glancing uncertainly at the open doorway. "Wait for help."

"Help?" Neville stared at me like I was a lunatic, but I was already gone.

The door lead into the room I had been dreading since we had set foot in the Ministry. The amount of Death Eaters in the room shocked me. They lined the benches the entire way around the archway, surrounding Harry, who stood upon the dais, the prophecy still clutched in his hand.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," Malfoy was sneering. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you . . . or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"

Neville's line never came as I quietly ran across the top row, searching. I was hoping he had managed to get the brain off Ron, though I knew the Weasley was going to be all right in the end. It was only a matter of minutes now. I risked jumping down a row, pausing as my feet hit the stone. Nobody turned. Not even Harry saw me, his eyes trained upon the closing circle of black.

"Come on, Potter," Malfoy was starting to get impatient.

I ran quickly down a few more steps, hugging the sides of the aisle. Harry scooted backwards as Malfoy stepped forward, anxiously close to the archway. Harry stepped back again, his feet barely brushing the side of the crumbling arch. My breath caught in my throat. Neville was supposed to distract the Death Eaters from closing in on Harry. And if Neville wasn't here . . . there was nothing to stop Harry from walking straight through the veil.

"_STUPEFY_!"

There was nothing else I could do to save him. The Death Eater closest to me fell, tumbling over a few benches in front of him before his head smacked against the stone ground. Everyone in the entire room turned to look at me as I jumped down another row, taking aim at another nameless figure in black.

"_STUPE_ – "

"_NO_!"

Whatever the spell was, it knocked me clear off my feet. I landed awkwardly between two rows, unable to stand up before a large hand closed around my arm. Harry's cry was still ringing through my ears as I was dragged to my feet, managing to shove my wand up my sleeve. The large Death Eater who had grabbed me pinned my torso against his chest. Struggling was a lost cause. I was dragged down the rest of the steps before stopping in front of the last person I wanted to see. As if the word _person_ was the right description for her.

"Andrea!" Bellatrix shouted, striding over quickly. I cringed as she reached out, grabbing my chin roughly in her bony hands. "How nice of you to join us."

"Don't touch her!" Harry snarled, the only thing keeping him from leaping at Bellatrix was the fact Malfoy still stood in his way.

"No, no, no," Bellatrix said. She looked transported, alive with excitement as she glanced between us. "Potter doesn't get to make demands." She jerked my head to the side with her wrist, her nails digging into my skin. Suddenly, with a nod of her head, the Death Eater holding me threw me to the floor so hard the thud echoed throughout the room. I gasped, unable to hold back the reaction when pain shot up my wrists as they kept my face from eating cement. I was about to roll over again when fingers latched into my hair. I didn't even try to hold back the cry as Bellatrix yanked me to my knees. Her strength was surprising for such a small, gaunt woman and I felt tears form in the corner of my eyes from the pain. My hands went to my hair instinctively, wrapping around Bellatrix's own bony wrist, as if I would manage to pry her fingers loose. She knelt behind me, tilting my head so far back I was left looking at the ceiling.

"Bella," Lucius's voice was left standing in the echo of my cry as I felt her crooked wand slap against my exposed throat with a smart sound. It was a warning.

"_Stop_! _Stop_! I – I'll give it to you," Harry voice was tortured as Bellatrix paused, her wand running down my neck suggestively. I gasped as she shook me slightly, as I was still struggling to unclench her fingers from my hair. I was scared, my blood burning through my body. The fact that Voldemort wanted me alive meant nothing at the moment. Anyone can still be breathing and horribly maimed at the same time.

"I told you, Lucius," Bellatrix was smiling. It was awful. All I could see was the stone ceiling and a giant wad of her unruly, greasy black hair. "All Potter needed was a bit of . . . _persuasion_."

"Let her go," Harry's voice was more controlled now. There was a short scuffle of shoes and someone grunted.

"Hand it over first and the girl goes – "

The sound of doors slamming open bounced throughout the room. Bellatrix paused and I took advantage of her hesitation. Yanking my head to the side and letting my wand slide into my hand at the same time, I whipped it around, blasting Bellatrix backwards. She yelled, her own wand going off as she smacked into a bench. I turned in time to see Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley burst into the room, Tonks wasting no time in aiming for Malfoy. Harry dived off the dais as a Stunning Spell was aimed in his direction. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped down steps toward the sunken floor.

I was forced to roll to doge another flash of light when I felt another hand grab my waist. My wand seemed to move without my mind, jabbing behind me.

"Wait, Andy! It's _me_!"

I barely had enough time to stop before I Stunned Harry myself. He jumped over me suddenly, covering my body with his as a spell sent bits of stone cascading over us. For the first time I noticed a large gash along the length of his cheekbone, another across his jaw.

"Are you – " Harry pulled me around the other side of the dais, "are you – "

Harry was never going to get to finish the question as a large arm seized him around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barley toughing the floor.

"Give it to me," the man growled, "give me the prophecy – "

I raised my wand, but the man shook Harry. I hesitated, unsure that I might accidently hit both of them. Sliding around the man as a crater appeared in the spot I had been in moments before, I pointed at the back of his legs.

"_STUPEFY_!"

The man keeled over backwards and his mask slipped off. Harry dropped to the floor as he collapsed, out cold.

"Thanks," Harry stepped forward, grinning slightly as he stooped to help me to my feet. Lupin sped past me, feverously dueling a Death Eater with his mask still on. I took another step and almost fell again, Harry's arms stopping me from hitting the floor. Moody's magical eye was spinning across the floor, it's owner lying on his side, his head bleeding. His attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and me; Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.

He made the same slashing movement as he had on Hermione, his wand trained at a spot above my heart.

"_Protego_!"

Harry's charm caused Dolohov to take a step back. I took this as my moment of opportunity, Stunning the man before he could even take his aim again. And, thankfully, he stayed Stunned. Maybe I had to be under some extreme stress and have a sense of death to make my Stuns work? But whatever it was, I wasn't going to complain.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" Malfoy snarled behind Harry, his wand going quickly to Harry's ribs. I ducked out of the way, my own wand rising to the pureblood's face.

"No – get – off – me . . . _Andy_ – catch it!"

It was a perfect throw; the prophecy soared through the air in a silent arch. Malfoy lifted his wand towards me stupidly, allowing Harry to curse him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malfoy hit the floor, his blond hair splaying across the ground floor. The prophecy was coming closer. I reached for it, the scene suddenly moving in slow motion. It felt warm to the touch, almost living. My fingers closed around it. I had it.

The prophecy slipped through my hands and shattered into millions of pieces onto the floor.

"NO!" Malfoy pushed himself onto his elbows, blood staining his fair hair.

A pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by anyone but the three of us. I could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding us, not one word of the prophecy could be heard. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

"Harry, I – " I was going to say I was sorry, when I wasn't anywhere close to that. With Neville out of the picture, everything had changed. I knew the prophecy had to break, and no one would be able to listen to it. Not even Harry.

"It doesn't matt – _Dumbledore_!"

I turned to look where Harry was staring. Directly above us, in the doorway of the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious.

The Death Eaters made a run for it, scrabbling like monkeys up the opposite stone steps. Dumbledore's spell pulled them back so effortlessly it was as if he had hooked them with an invisible line.

There was only one couple still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Sirius ducked Bellatrix's jet of red light. He was laughing.

"You can do better than that!" Sirius's shaggy, thick hair made him extremely recognizable, as well as the thin statue of his frame. Like Bellatrix, Sirius had once been handsome but the wears of prison had taken their toll. He seemed like a nice man, though I didn't miss the signature mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. Sirius laughed again and I almost smiled, the noise catching against my heart.

The second jet of red light hit him squarely in the chest.

It took Sirius ages to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging form the arch . . .

Harry was running for the dais. I sprinted after him, grabbing his arm just as Sirius's face disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind before falling back into place.

"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled. "SIRIUS!"

Harry yanked his arm out of my grasp, tearing for the veil. I cried out as Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. The room fell silent. My hand flew to my throat in horror as I watched.

"_SIRIUS_!"

It had happened.

Sirius was dead.


	32. The Dark Lord

**_Disclaimer: _I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

"SIRIUS!"

"It's too late, Harry –"

"SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry," said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. "He can't come back, because he's d –"

"HE – IS – NOT – _DEAD_!"

"_SIRIUS_!"

Every time Harry shouted it was as if someone was thrusting a cold knife in my chest. Lupin was dragging Harry away from the dais, dodging spells that were still flying past. Harry's voice broke as he called out his godfather's name again.

How could I have done this to _Harry_? The moment Sirius had stepped backwards, every nerve in my body wanted to react, wanted to stop him. _I could have_.

"_NO!" _

I had to cover my mouth to keep myself composed. Sirius death had been described in the book, horribly portrayed in the movie, but now, as I was watching everything happen . . . everything that felt so real . . . I myself had been waiting for Sirius to step out the other side, shaking his shaggy head and eager to reenter battle.

Dumbledore had the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilized by invisible ropes. Mad – Eye had crawled over to where Tonks lay and was attempting to revive her. Behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts, and cries.

"Neville!"

I had never been happier to see the pudgy-faced Gryffindor in my life. He was descending the steps, Hermione's wand still clutched tightly in his hand. Blood was dripping down his face, onto the front of his robes. His nose was awful, swollen so badly that it took up most of his face.

"Where are the others?" I reached for him as he finally saw Harry, still calling for his godfather. I wanted to run to him, maybe even try to comfort him. But I knew I would be able to do nothing.

"All righd," Neville nodded. "I dink the brain is dead dough, I –"

There was a loud bang and Kingsley shouted, yelling in pain as he hit the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her, but she deflected it. She was fast, already halfway up the steps now –

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" Harry bellowed, ripping his arm from Lupin's slackened grip. "SHE KILLED HIM – I'LL KILL HER!"

"HARRY!"

I didn't hesitate a second before sprinting after him, Lupin's reaching arm barely grabbing the back of my robes, brushing as quickly as his cry. I scrambled up the stone benches after Harry, halfway up as Bellatrix's robes whipped out of sight. I didn't even think about what was ahead, that Voldemort himself was going to be waiting for me if I continued to follow Harry. All that mattered was that I kept _him_ safe.

Or as safe as I could at the moment.

When I reached the door, Bellatrix had already dumped the tank of brains. They were sliding all over the place, their tentacles reaching.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The spell had been one of my first to try once I had realized my wand actually worked. The brains around me shot straight into the air and I booked it, sliding over the greenish liquid that puddled along the ground. I leaped over Luna, who was groaning on the floor. Ginny was awake now, mumbling something as I sprinted past her. Ron was still giggling feebly in a corner, the brain that had attacked him lay sprawled like a limp chew toy, its long tentacles bent and twisted. Hermione was still unconscious and I scaled her legs in order to reach the door before it shut.

"Where's the way out!" Harry was shouting as the room spun again, this time a door behind him slamming open, the corridor towards the lifts stretched out ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran.

"Harry!"

But he didn't hear me. I quickened my pace, sliding through the door as it closed shut with a snap. He was already at the lifts. I ran, my shoes still slick and covered in the green liquid from the tank. My fist slammed down on the button to call a lift and one clattered down at the touch as Harry's disappeared from view, his shoes gone as they slid behind the wall and up towards the lobby.

The elevator was moving too slow. It rose without a pace, clanging and creaking as it slowed before its destination. I wasn't going to make it . . .

"I am!" Harry's voice rang through the atrium, audible through the crack that had appeared at the top of the elevator. _I am! I am! I am!_

"_Crucio_!"

I yelped, my heart jumping into my throat as I pushed the grilles open before I had come to a complete stop. They were across the room, Harry kneeling behind the large Fountain of Magical Brethren. But it was Bellatrix who screamed. I stopped, watching Harry's face contort in rage I had never seen before, his wand pointing at the woman's body as she fell to the floor.

But she didn't writhe and shriek with pain – she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry barely had enough time to dodge her counter spell. It hit the head of the gold wizard in the fountain, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor. I dived behind a large desk, wand at the ready.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. Her baby voice was abandoned now. "You need to _mean_ them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won't hurt me for long – I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson – "

"_No_!"

But my cry was overpowered by her scream. Harry ducked with just enough time to roll out of the way before her spell hit the side of the fountain he had been leaning against. The centaur's bow spun off and landed with a crash a short distance from the golden wizard's head.

"Potter, you cannot win against me!"

I took Bellatrix's distraction as my chance to move. She didn't even notice me, too busy throwing curse after curse in Harry's direction. There was a loud bang and the goblin's ear scaled the room, breaking a glass window. I ducked behind a pillar, my arms going around my head as shards of glass rained down.

"Potter, I am going to give you one chance!" Bellatrix shouted. "Give me the prophecy – roll it out toward me now – and I may spare your life!"

Harry laughed, a mad hackle that could stand next to Bellatrix's. "You're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!"

As Harry said it, I watched his body bend over as if he was in pain, his hand flying to his forehead.

"LAIR!" Bellatrix shrieked, but I could hear the terror behind the anger now. 'YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME – _Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!_"

Harry laughed again, despite the fact his head was held tightly in his hands.

"No!" she shouted, looking around wildly. "It isn't true, you're lying – MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED – DO NOT PUNISH ME – "

At her words, I followed her dark eyes to a spot just over the fountain. A spot just in front of Harry's bent body. I gasped loudly, the feeling leaving my legs so fast I had to grip the stone in front of me.

"Don't waste your breath!" Harry's eyes were shut, blocking out the pain he felt from his scar. A pain that I, for once, was not sharing. But I didn't need a cursed scar to see what was in front of me. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter?"

Harry opened his eyes slowly.

Voldemort was everything I had imagined: more skull-like than the woman who had spent most of her life starving in prison. His skin was translucent, blue veins spreading like the lines of a network. His skin was pulled backwards over his skull, his features black and sunken. There was no nose, his skin flat where the appendage would be. But the eyes. The eyes were the worst: scarlet and slit – pupiled, they stared at Harry with unforgiving hatred.

"So you smashed my prophecy?" Voldemort said softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. "No, Bella, he is not lying . . . I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind . . . Months of preparation, months of effort . . . and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again . . . "

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!" Bellatrix flung herself at Voldemort's feet as he stepped out of the shadows. "Master, you shout know – "

"Be quiet, Bella," Voldemort's voice was dangerously on edge. He glanced around quickly and I ducked behind the pillar again, my hands shaking.

"I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered he Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master – he is here – he is below – "

"I know he's here, Bella," Voldemort seemed to be scolding her, as if it was something he had already spoken about before.

It wasn't making any sense. I knew whom of which Bellatrix was talking about. It was the man who had sent all the Death Eaters running in the Department of Mysteries. The only man Voldemort _feared_. Voldemort was not supposed to know he was here.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," Voldemort said quietly.

Where was Dumbledore? I glanced around helplessly, but the bearded man was nowhere in sight. Voldemort hesitated for a moment as if he was waiting, his wand suspended over his head.

"_Avada_ –"

Voldemort was going to kill Harry, and I was just standing there. To hell with not interfering.

"STUPEFY!"

I screamed the first spell that came to my mind, knowing whatever I used would be relatively useless. Voldemort blocked the curse easily, but his attention was diverted. Harry's face went white beside Voldemort's looming form as I stepped forward.

Voldemort made a sound between a gasp and a laugh. I didn't bother hiding anymore; I was not going to act like a coward in front of this man, even if he did attempt to kill me in my nightmares. That's all he was, right? A man? A extremely sick, immoral, man.

I stepped forward shakily, my wand pointed at the Dark Lord's chest.

"HOW DARE – " Bellatrix was cut off by a flick of Voldemort's wand. Her hand flew to her throat in disbelief, her mouth gaping as if someone had just sliced her vocal chords.

He didn't move. Harry was just as much as a statue; he could have blended in with the fountain behind him, his wand pointing uselessly at the ground. Voldemort opened his arms, as if to greet me, his lips pulling back over his teeth.

"As on schedule," Voldemort laughed, glancing down to where Bellatrix was still kneeling at the hem of his robes. Just as quickly, his hideous grin melted from his face. His awful red eyes widened as he glanced over me, my entire body feeling violated by one look. But I didn't move.

"Come here." Harry was still frozen, staring up at Voldemort as if he was a ghost. My feet stayed glued to the floor as Voldemort raised his wand.

"I said," his face twisted, his pale, capped lips sliding over yellow teeth, "come here."

I stared at Voldemort in disbelief. I almost had to hold back a mock shrug, despite all the emotions running through me. Did he really think I was going to go towards him on my own free –?

"_Imperio_."

Harry yelled, but it was cut off by a swipe of Voldemort's hand. Harry went sailing into the air like a ragdoll, his head banging against the fountain as he slammed back into the ground. The feeling didn't take long. It was like an invisible force was pushing against me. My mind ran blank. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

Suddenly my forehead smacked against the floor as I collapsed to the ground. The hem of Voldemort's robes, now only feet away from me, whisked around, dangerously close to my face. I gasped, a cold feeling rushing through me like water. I had only felt that sensation once before. On the night I had awoken to find myself on the Hogwarts Express.

"Dumbledore."

I twisted around so fast I almost smacked my head into the floor again. Harry was pushing himself off the ground, his wand raised and a fresh trickle of blood running down the side of his neck. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden entrance gates.

Above me, Voldemort raised his wand and sent a jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. There was a slight rusting of a breeze before my instincts kick in and I rolled as if my life depended upon it. Dumbledore was behind Voldemort now, waving his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The witch made a beeline for Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest. It dived at her, pinning the hag to the floor. The goblin and house-elf scuttled out of sight while the centaur galloped at Voldemort, leaping brilliantly over Harry, who ducked out of the way just in time to miss a golden hoof to the back of the head. Voldemort vanished, reappearing beside the pool. Beside Harry.

The headless wizard pushed Harry backwards away from the fight before I could even think about reacting. Dumbledore was walking calmly forward, discreetly motioning for me to get out of the way with the slight flicker of his eyes.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," Dumbledore's voice was creepily calm. "The Aurors are on their way – "

"By which time I shall be gone, old man," Voldemort cantered back in the same, cool manner. I froze on my knees. Something wasn't right. Voldemort's own character was out of place. He wasn't irrational, or livid with anger, as he should have been. He still sent a killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security desk, which burst into flame. Harry was struggling behind the headless wizard, wishing desperately to help Dumbledore. I stood slowly, backing towards one of the fireplaces. Voldemort's demonic eyes flickered in my direction but he didn't turn. Dumbledore raised his wand and I had half a sense of mind to duck, the goblin appearing beside me. I almost yelped as the golden creature flung itself at me, it small body covering my own as I crouched by the edge of a fireplace.

The force of the spell that was emitted from Dumbledore's wand was such that I, though shielded by the stone goblin, felt my hair stand up on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, a chilling sound in the echoing hall.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" Voldemort called, his scarlet eyes narrowing over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore stated calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world. "Merely taking you life would not satisfy me, I admit – "

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" Voldemort almost taunted, his lips pulling back over his teeth in a sneer.

"You are quiet wrong . . . " Dumbledore was still closing in on Voldemort, speaking so lightly it was as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. "Indeed, you failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness – "

Behind the goblin, I cringed as Voldemort sent another jet of green light from behind his shield. It sailed high towards Dumbledore's shoulder. This time it was the centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces. But before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long, thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, as Voldemort struggled in the fiery rope, it seemed Dumbledore had won. Then the rope was losing the flames, turning greener within the passing seconds, transforming; a serpent was now in place the burning rope. It relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort had vanished. My breath caught in my throat as the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike –

"_Look out_!"

Harry's warning was meaningless as a jet of green light had flown at Dumbledore as a burst of flame appeared above the headmaster. Voldemort reappeared, standing on the platform in the middle of the fountain, where the dented witch, headless wizard, earless goblin, house-elf, and shattered centaur had stood. But before Harry had even finished shouting, another jet of light flew from Voldemort's wand the moment the snake had decided to strike –

A large streak of red flew through the lobby. Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opening his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid, movement – the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke. Just as quickly, the water in the pool rose up to cover Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass –

Voldemort waved his wand expertly, the water parting just enough for him to jump off of the plinth in the middle of the fountain. His feet barely made a noise as he landed on the hard ground, grinning immorally at Dumbledore.

As scared as I was for everyone's well-being – well, everyone but Voldemort, of course – every nerve in my body was telling me _not_ to get involved in a wizard's duel. And, for once, I was listening to myself.

Voldemort straightened, his whitewashed wand stark against his black robes. Dumbledore raised his own wand again, brining it far over his head in a wide loop – just as Voldemort disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"MASTER!" screamed Bellatrix.

Voldemort had decided to flee? No, I knew better than that.

Harry made to move out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore shook his head, holding his arm out as he gazed with wide eyes over the empty lobby.

"Stay where you are, Harry!" For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened.

The small goblin didn't stand a chance, even though I was probably the most weak physically in the room. My considerable height upon the statue gave me an advantage as I leaped over the head of the creature just as its hands reached for me, to yank me back.

"Andrea!" I stopped cold halfway from the fountain as Dumbledore whipped his wand around.

A piercing scream shattered the silence. I whirled to see Harry drop like a slab of concrete behind the golden wizard, clutching his head. My scream melted with his as I rushed to his side, small glass shards stabbing into my skin as I slid across the ground. A pair of stone hands was suddenly around my waist, pulling me backwards, away from Harry's withering body.

"_HARRY_!" I yelled, kicking at the headless wizard as it dragged me closer towards the fountain. "_NO_!"

He couldn't hear me. Harry was yelling so loudly the lobby was trembling.

"LET GO!" I struggled violently, feeling my own skin bruise underneath the wizard's unmoving grasp.

"_Kill me now, Dumbledore . . . _"

It wasn't Harry's voice. It was a dark, muffled, demonic sound that had come through his lips, that made his mouth move.

Harry was screaming again.

"_HARRY_!" I reared back, reaching for my wand as the statue's hand dived to stop me. It caught me around my wrist, squeezing until my fingers went limp and my wand skittered to a stop at the edge of the fountain.

"Andy – " Harry said my name, his own voice so small I barely caught it before he was yelling again, tearing at his forehead.

"_Dumbledore_!" I was yelling the headmaster's name, but it was just drowned in the chaos. I reared my elbow back, trying anything to loosen the golden statue's grip. A sharp pain burst through my arm as my elbow connected with its golden chest, my curse going unnoticed among all the noise.

"_If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy . . . _"

"NO!" I knew struggling was useless, but I was going to knock myself out cold before I stopped trying to get to Harry. I screamed again, a strange feeling surging through my stomach. There was a sharp cracking sound and the hands around my arms dropped. The headless wizard fell back, a large crack down its middle, completely immobile.

Now Dumbledore was yelling. It was an awful noise, the echoing room making everything sound as if it was suffocating me. I ran through bits of glass and splintered wood, collapsing next to Harry, who was twisting and shaking as if someone was stabbing him with hundreds of white-hot knives.

"_Your weakness is going to be your death, Dumbledore . . . " _

My actions blurred together as I grabbed Harry's shoulders, pulling him towards me. His arms lashed out, one of them catching me on the side of the face. I bit my tongue, the metallic tang of blood seeping into my mouth, but I did not let go.

"You're the weak one," Harry was saying. His entire body was trembling in my hands. I grabbed his face, mumbling incoherently, staring at him in horror as he fought internally with Voldemort. I was trying to think of something I could do, something that would end his suffering. Harry's looked up long enough to stare at me, his brilliant eyes flashing crimson once before he shut them again.

"_You are alone, boy . . ." _Voldemort was hissing through Harry's mouth, moving his jaw sharply. Harry shook his head as if to throw him off. "_You have no one. . ."_

"No – " Harry gasped, his head thrashing to the side. There was the certainty insecurity in his voice that made my heart tear: the helplessness of someone who had just watched his only family member die.

"Harry," I choked. Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't tear my eyes away either. I didn't know if he could hear me, but I grabbed his face as gently as I could, pulling him towards me.

"Harry, you were never alone. You'll _never_ be alone."

And then I was kissing him. I didn't even think about it. Dumbledore and Bellatrix were nothing against Harry. Not even Voldemort. I didn't care who was watching, who was judging. I had realized my words meant nothing – they were as strong as Voldemort's empty threats. I had needed actions, and that's exactly what I did.

Harry's eyes shot open, the crimson color flashing over them again before it dissolved away. He was still struggling, his body shaking against mine as I pulled him closer, cupping my hands around his face so that he could not turn away. Harry's own eyes closed, his head going limp in my grasp. My heart almost leaped out of my chest when I felt him respond, his lips moving slowly against mine.

There was a rush of wind at my right and I snapped up, Harry's entire body sagging as he stopped moving, as still as Hermione had been when Dolohov had struck her with the curse.

I glimpsed the hem of his robe first, my eyes slowly trailing further up until I was left staring into Voldemort's cold, scarlet eyes. I expected him to be seething, to point his wand at me with one last curse. But, to my even greater horror, he was smiling again, staring down at me with his permanent vile expression.

There were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been. Below me, Harry's eyes opened slowly. I was frozen again, as if my entire body was encased in ice. The voices were growing louder. Voldemort looked away, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the fireplaces, before turning away without a second glance.

He was gone in a swirl of smoke.

The breath I had been unintentionally holding escaped with a loud sigh. My muscles seemed useless after being tense for so long. My head was aching. There was something wet trickling down the side of my face and my elbow was on fire where I had smacked it stupidly against the metal statue.

"I – Andy . . . " Harry was mumbling, looking around as if he was just remembering where he was. I couldn't help the sob that passed my throat as I stared down at him, a true smile pulling at my lips for the first time in days.

"Are . . . you all right?" Harry was still gasping for air, but his eyes were shining again as he stared up at me.

"Am _I_ alright?" I laughed a breathless and airy sound. But my expression turned just as serious again as Dumbledore was at our side, his concerned eyes travelling over Harry. Despite the fact Voldemort not possessing him anymore, Harry was still shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly.

It wasn't until I heard the rush of footsteps I realized we weren't alone anymore.

"He was there!"

I didn't look up to see who had shouted, not even caring to know where Dumbledore had turned to go. Harry gasped as I shifted slowly to my feet, his own tripping as he tired to stand.

"Here – " I grunted, pulling Harry to his feet rather awkwardly, though I still managed to get his arm around my shoulders. "Lean into me – "

Harry went limp so fast I had to grab his waist to keep him from falling. His other arm lashed out as if to catch himself, latching onto my shoulder as his knees gave out from under him.

"I'm . . . sorry . . ." Harry panted against my neck, struggling to reposition himself. But I knew he wasn't apologizing for almost throwing us both to the floor. My stomach tightened.

"Harry – " With my free hand, I reached out to touch his bloody cheek. He wouldn't look at me, his beautiful eyes haunted. I repeated his name, more forcefully this time. His eyes dragged slowly towards me, as if he was afraid of what he might see.

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry about," I breathed, leaning forward so my face was barely inches from his. I moved slowly to wrap my arms around his waist and Harry broke, tucking his head in the crook between my neck and shoulder. I felt his arms circle around my torso, pulling me against his shaking body. We just stood there, statues in each other's arms. I could feel his heartbeat thundering against my own, so alive and beating.

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald-green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards were emerging from them. The man who had shouted was still pointing to the pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before.

"I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!"

"I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!" gibbered Fudge, who was wearing his pajamas under his pinstriped cloak. "Merlin's beard – here – _here! _– in the Ministry of Magic! – great heavens above – it doesn't seem possible – my word – how can this be?"

Harry stiffened at Fudge's voice, straightening his head slowly, as if it was out of a great effort. I stared at his bloody, scarred, unreadable face as he glared at the Minister.

"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, walking towards the Minister so that the newcomers realized he was there for the first time. A few raised there wands, but mostly stood there with an incredulous look upon their stunned faces, "you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber bound by an Anti –Disapperation Jinx and awaiting you decision as to what to do with them."

"Dumbledore!" Fudge gasped, apparently beside himself with amazement. "You – here – I – I –"

He looked around wildly at the Aurors he had brought with him, and it could not have been clearer that he had half a mind to cry, "Seize him!"

"Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men – and win again!" Dumbledore's voice thundered throughout the lobby. "But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"

"I – don't – well – " blustered Fudge, looking around as though someone was going to tell him what to do. When it was silent, he said, "Very well – Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see . . . Dumbledore, you – you will need to tell me exactly – the Fountain of Magical Brethren – what happened?" he added in a whimper, staring around at the remains of the witch, wizard, and centaur where they laid scattered.

"We can discuss that after I have sent Mr. Potter and Miss Goodrich back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes unreadable.

"Potter – _Harry Potter?_"

Fudge wheeled around and stared at Harry, who was still leaning heavily against my shoulder, one of my arms still wrapped protectively around his middle. Once again, in the presence of the Minister, I was invisible. For once that night, I wasn't really complaining.

"He-here?" said Fudge, goggling at Harry. "Why – what's all this about?"

"I shall explain everything," Dumbledore repeated, "when Mr. Potter and Miss Goodrich are back at school."

He walked away from the pool to the place where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered. "_Portus._" The head glowed blue and trembled nosily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once again.

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" Fudge pounced as Dumbledore picked the head and walked towards us. "You haven't got authorization for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you – you –"

His voice faltered as Dumbledore turned to survey him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.

"You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you . . ." Dumbledore pulled a watch with twelve hands from his pocket, "half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the headmaster will find me."

Fudge was goggling worse than ever. His mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled gray hair. I was impressed, unable to suppress a small smile. Dumbledore sounded, well, almost like a . . . badass.

"I – you – "

Dumbledore turned his back on him, leaving Fudge to blunder in his own words.

"Take this Portkey, Andrea."

He held out the golden head of the statue and I held it balanced upon the palm of my hand. Beside me, Harry reached out to touch a spot on part of the wizard's jagged neck.

"I shall see you both in half an hour," Dumbledore said quietly. "One . . . two . . ."

Harry's arm tightened around my neck.

" . . . three . . ."


	33. No More Secrets

**_Disclaimer: _I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

My feet hit the ground so hard my knees buckled slightly. The golden wizard's head hit the floor with a hollow sound. I looked around and realized we had arrived in Dumbledore's office.

Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster's absence. The delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the other headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. I looked through the large window on the far wall. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching.

"Sit down," I ushered Harry to one of the two chairs that stood with their backs facing the window. Harry collapsed as if his legs couldn't hold his weight anymore, sitting into the chair so roughly that a few paintings snuffled and fidgeted. I took the empty seat beside him, my eyes glancing over a small mirror above Dumbledore's desk.

I looked like I had been dragged through a horror movie. My hair was sticking up in embarrassing places. The eye makeup Lavender had offered to put on in the morning was smudged, mascara staining the corner of my eyes. My eyes themselves were bloodshot and drooping, reflecting the fatigue I was really feeling. I had a bloody bruise on one side of my temple and a questionable scratch that ran down the side of my neck. I lifted my hand from Harry's arm to gingerly touch the swelling lump on the side of my forehead but Harry's own hand shot out, grabbing mine as if I was going to get up and leave.

"Wha –?" I cut myself off, not wanting to ask because I knew Harry couldn't answer. We sat in silence for a few minutes; the only sound was the occasional shifting of a painting.

"It's my fault he's – " Harry didn't say it, his eyes flashing away for a moment as he composed himself. I reached towards him with my other hand, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. My fingers lingered in his hair and Harry's eyes locked with mine, making me rethink maybe blue wasn't my favorite color.

He didn't cry. Harry was strong, and I could only dream of being like him.

"I wish I could fix that," I dragged my fingers lightly over the scrape across his jawbone. His muscles tightened under my touch, but Harry didn't move.

"Thank you," Harry said suddenly, still staring at me. I was about to ask him what he meant when a particularly loud grunting snore interrupted us, followed by a cool voice, "Ah . . . Harry Potter . . ."

Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he surveyed us out of shrewd, narrow eyes.

"And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?" said Phineas. "This office is supposed to barred to all but the rightful headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don't tell me . . . " He gave another shuddering yawn. "Another message for my worthless great-great grandson?"

Harry didn't speak, the color that had returned to his face draining in a matter of seconds. His fingers tightened around my hand. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it.

"We are waiting for Professor Dumbledore," my voice was small, but it distracted Phineas from asking any more questions about Sirius.

A few more of the portraits had stirred now. I messed with the end of my wand. I had found it undamaged underneath a pile of splinters and had managed to shove it in my pocket before Fudge had turned around.

"Dumbledore is returning?" A corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk said. I nodded, my throat suddenly unbearably tight.

"Oh good," said the wizard. "It had been very dull without him, very dull indeed."

As if on cue, the empty fireplace I had not noticed before suddenly burst into emerald-green flame, making me jump in my chair. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding wall jerked awake. Many of them gave cries of welcome.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said softly.

He did not look at us at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from the inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, rather ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.

"The both of you," Dumbledore said, finally turning away from the baby bird, "will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events."

Though Dumbledore was looking at Harry directly for the first time in months and his expression was kindly rather than accusatory, Harry looked like he couldn't bear to meet his eyes.

"Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up now," Dumbledore continued. "Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems that she will make a full recovery."

Harry nodded at the carpet, which was growing lighter as the sky grew paler outside. I knew all the portraits were listening intently, adding to Harry's pressure.

"I know how you are feeling, Harry," Dumbledore said very quietly.

"No, you don't," Harry said, his voice suddenly loud and strong when he didn't have one moments before. His eyes flashed.

"You see, Dumbledore?" Phineas said slyly. "Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be magically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own – "

"That's enough, Phineas," Dumbledore said.

Harry turned his head, staring out the window and at the Quidditch stadium in the distance.

"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," Dumbledore said. "On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."

That was exactly what Harry _didn't_ need to hear.

"My greatest strength, is it? You haven't got a clue . . . You don't know . . ."

"What don't I know?" Dumbledore was calm.

Harry turned his head so that he was facing the other direction. I could feel him shaking in rage, my hand still under his on the armrest. "I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human – "

"THEN – I – DON'T – WANT – TO – BE – HUMAN!" Harry stood so quickly the chair rocked. He stalked over to the window, away from Dumbledore, his back facing us.

"I DON'T CARE!" Harry suddenly shouted, seizing one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table now beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into tiny pieces against the far wall. Several of the portraits let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Dippet said, "_Really!"_

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE – "

He kicked at the table in blind rage. It broke apart of the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.

"You do care," Dumbledore said, seemingly uncaring that Harry was breaking his possessions. I sat frozen in my chair, afraid to move. Dumbledore's expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

"I – DON'T!" Harry screamed so loudly that his voice broke.

"Oh yes, you do," Dumbledore said even more calmly. "You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" Harry roared. Dumbledore really knew how to make him seethe in a matter of words. "YOU – STANDING THERE – YOU – "

Harry cut himself off, turning for the door. He seized the doorknob roughly and wrenched at it. I stayed in my chair, Dumbledore regarding me with the same, cool face.

But the door wasn't going to open no matter how hard Harry pulled.

"Let me out," Harry said with his back still to us. He was shaking again.

"No," Dumbledore said simply.

It was silent for a few seconds as Harry looked over his shoulder and they stared at each other.

"Let me out," Harry said again.

"No," Dumbledore repeated.

"If you don't – if you keep me in here – if you don't let me – "

"By all means continue destroying my possessions," Dumbledore said serenely. "I daresay I have too many."

Harry's eyes traveled over Dumbledore's office again, pausing to meet mine. A sudden guilt seemed to rush through him, as if he had finally remembered that I was there, watching.

"It is _my_ fault Sirius died," Dumbledore said clearly, sitting behind his desk, watching Harry. "Or I should say almost entirely my fault – I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever, an energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never believe that for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try to lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and me alone."

Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but he seemed to be unaware of it. I looked around uncomfortably, shifting my weight in the chair. As much as I knew this speech, knew the reasons why Sirius had died in the long run, I still felt like I was invading. But as Dumbledore had begun blaming himself for almost everything, for the death of another man, my stomach started to feel sick. He described himself just sitting back and watching, just expecting everything to work out right in the end. It sounded so painstakingly familiar.

"Please sit down." It was not an order, but a request.

Harry hesitated, and then walked slowly across the room that was now littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, taking his seat beside me again.

"Am I to understand," Phineas said slowly from my left, "that my great-great grandson – the last of the Blacks – is dead?"

"Yes, Phineas," Dumbledore said.

"I don't believe it," Phineas said brusquely, but I heard the rustling of Sirius's grandfather marching out of his portrait. I knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in the Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius though the house . . .

"Harry, I owe you an explanation," Dumbledore said. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, have not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it is to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten lately . . ."

The sun was rising now. There was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colorless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"I was blinded by what I believed was right," Dumbledore said quietly, never wavering his steady gaze. "And, unfortunately, I paid a price."

"No," Harry snapped, shaking his head. "I was stupid. I let myself think what he wanted me to."

"I – " my voice faltered as I spoke for the first time in at least a half hour. It was all too much for me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let Dumbledore continue to blame himself. I couldn't let Harry believe . . .

They both turned to me, but I knew there was no going back. Not this time.

"I was never . . . honest with you . . ." It was getting increasingly difficult to form my words, to think of the right way to explain.

"What are you talking about?" Harry said. I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice. I wished he wouldn't speak: it just made it worse.

"I knew."

"You knew what, Andrea?" Dumbledore's voice was still calm, but there was an edge.

I gulped loudly, not looking at either of them. "Everything."

Harry just looked at me. It was Dumbledore's expression that made the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach increase. There was a sudden shock behind his spectacles that he hadn't been quick enough to hide.

"I knew . . . why Voldemort lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries," my voice was stronger now as I kept talking. "I knew . . . I knew _he_ was going to be there. I knew what was in each of those rooms without even stepping foot in the Ministry. The brains. The planets. The room with the giant, time controlling jar."

I jumped as Harry laughed. It wasn't a true laugh, just something to help him brush off the eerie feeling we all were experiencing. I cringed. His fake laugh stopped short as he gazed expectantly down at my face. "Andy, I don't – "

"I'm not from here," I blurted. "Well, I'm not an alien, of course," I covered myself with a small smile, as if anyone had found the claim humorous. "The first time I ever met any of you in person was the day I woke up on that train."

"In person?" Harry said slowly.

Dumbledore was still silent, staring at me with his intense eyes.

"I don't know how else to explain this," I sighed, gazing up at Dumbledore with a hopeful face. "The first time I ever held a wand was when I found one in my pocket on the train. I am not a transfer student from the Salem Witch Institute; I have never been to France. Months ago, I had thought all this was a fantasy, a children's story."

"A children's story?" I wished Harry would stop repeating my words. It was hard enough trying to explain to them.

"In my . . . world," I chose my word carefully, "magic does not exist. At least, I don't think it does. I guess it's just a world full of. . . Muggles."

I knew Harry thought I was going crazy. That I was some kind of a lunatic. That maybe I had hit my head a little too hard back in the Ministry. But all I needed was Dumbledore's approval. If he believed me, Harry would. But I knew no one was following me, understanding what I was so desperately tying to get across. I thought quickly, deciding to just blindly throw out something. Dumbledore turned, as if he was brushing me off, glancing at Phineas still empty portrait.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh moth dies . . ." I trailed off as Dumbledore's eyebrows shot upward, extreme shock visible for the first time upon his face. The entire room was in absolute silent until Harry cleared his throat.

"What did you just –?"

"_Who told you that?_" Dumbledore seemed suddenly livid, pacing forward so quickly that I didn't have enough time to react before the headmaster was standing in front of me.

"Dumbledore – " Harry said sharply as the professor grabbed my shoulder roughly. I cried out, unprepared for his reaction. I gazed up at Dumbledore, truly frightened as I stared into his cold eyes.

"I – no one told me," I squeaked. Dumbledore didn't let go of my robes.

"You're lying." For the first time, I saw the man Voldemort actually feared.

"I have been trying to tell you," I tried to clear my voice, to make myself appear like I was less intimidated my Dumbledore's intense gaze than I actually was, "in my world, Harry's life is a story. Everyone's lives here are a story.

"I don't understand. Are you a Seer or something?" Harry's voice seemed foreign to me.

"No," Dumbledore said so briskly I jumped again. He let go of my robes and I fell back against the back of the chair with a sharp thud. Something passed over his face again. Something close to the expression he had worn when Voldemort had just been about to posses Harry. Fear.

"This entire school term, Miss Goodrich," Dumbledore went back to my surname, but I barely registered it, "you have known the outcomes of this year?"

"I have known more," my voice was so small I didn't even recognize it. I said it like I was guilty. Like I had committed a felony. "In my world, everyone knows about Harry's entire life."

"My entire life?" Harry was flabbergasted. I didn't even bother looking at him. I couldn't. "How do they know about my life?"

"Stories," I barely got the word out.

"Someone made stories about my life?" Harry leaned forward. "Who?"

"I – I don't know," I lied, trying to get away from the fact Harry's life was etched out in a seven novels. In fantasy books ones finds in the back of a fiction section in the library.

"I don't believe you," Harry wasn't being rude about it. In fact, a small, skeptic smile was pulling at the edge of his lips. But his remark hit me harder than any spell had that entire night.

"Ask me something," I snapped. I was getting mad, a white-hot anger bubbling deep inside me. I was not going to be called a liar. I was not crazy. "Anything."

"All right," Harry was taken back by my offer. He hesitated, looking at Dumbledore with a questioning look upon his face. He opened his mouth –

"Something no one knows," I interrupted him before he could even speak. "Something not even Ron or Hermione would."

Harry hesitated again, a guarded look appearing over his features. He didn't acknowledge my request, but he looked away for a moment, deep in thought. When he turned back towards me, his eyes were dark. He was pulling up his shirtsleeve slowly, bearing the jagged scar that ran down his forearm.

"Who gave me this?"

I swallowed loudly. Sure, I knew the answer in less than a heartbeat. But I hesitated, staring at the painful looking cut that covered most of his inside arm.

"Wormtail."

I couldn't even begin to explain the period of silence that followed my answer. If Harry could get any paler, he did. Every thought he had about doubting me flew from his mind, though I did not like the way his eyes stared, unnerving and piercing. I sat still in my chair, as if I was awaiting my sentence. In a way, I was. Dumbledore was just as silent except for the rustling of his robes as he returned to his desk. I didn't even see how my answer had affected him: I had been to busy looking at the boy who was still staring at me, a sudden anger clearly starting to appear on his face. I almost opened my mouth to ask him what it was, but I could barley move an inch. I sat there, waiting like an animal that knew it was doomed.

"You knew Sirius was going to die."

The question had been bothering me despite the fact I had been expecting it the moment I had opened my mouth. I was so afraid, afraid everything that had taken so long to put together would suddenly unravel in seconds.

"Yes."

Harry didn't respond, staring at my face as if he had never laid eyes on me before. His hands tightened around the arm of his chair so quickly the knuckles faded to white. He glanced one more time at Dumbledore, who only met his eyes in return.

Trying to comfort him, I reached out to place my hand over his but Harry jerked away at the last moment, gazing at my fingers in distaste.

"Harry – "

"You knew . . . " My breath caught in my throat as his eyes bore unforgivingly into mine. "About everything . . . about Voldemort's lie . . ."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. He was repeating what I had already admitted to, though I knew Harry was more talking to himself than he was to any one of us.

"I understand this as much as you do," I spoke to both of them, but mostly to give an excuse to look away from Harry's piercing gaze. He wouldn't stop looking at me. Looking at me in horror. "I don't know how I am here or even why, I told you all – "

"But you knew Sirius was going to die."

I couldn't ignore him any longer. Harry's gaze was full of mixed emotions, though he still wouldn't stop gazing at me.

"Harry, I told you – "

"You _knew_ he was going to die," Harry seemed to snap, jumping to his feet. "You knew, and you did _nothing_ about it!"

"I didn't know what – "

"You let him fall into that archway," he shoved a finger into my face, his glasses sliding down his nose as he bent to look me straight in the eye.

"I did not _let_ him – "

"You knew he wasn't going to come out the other side! The entire time we were in the Ministry, and you said nothing!"

"Harry, just let me finish a goddamn – "

"The thestrals!" Harry was backing up now, but his finger was still pointing allegedly in my direction. "The Room of Requirement. You already knew. They were never your own ideas, were they?" He looked at me with disgust. "The night I dreamed about Mr. Weasley! You barged into the boy's dormitory. You knew the number of bite marks. You _saw_ what I saw."

"I don't understand how!" I yelled back, getting to my feet to face him.

"Well," Harry stepped forward so suddenly I jumped, the backs of my knees colliding loudly with the edge of my seat. "What I still don't understand is how you can let someone _die_."

I opened my mouth but I could have been a mute for all the help it gave me.

"He was the only person I had left, Andy," Harry wasn't looking at me, his voice detached. "The only one who understood, and I lost him tonight. Do you know how that –?"

He stopped, just about to say the word that he had been so angry to discuss with Dumbledore. His voice cracked at the last word and my heart threatened to tear right then. It had caused me so much pain to read about what Harry had to overcome in his young life . . . but when I actually had to watch it . . . I looked back at Dumbledore wildly, hoping for anything. But the Headmaster was just sitting there, watching the two of us as if we were some high school drama production.

"And then you come out and say you could have saved him?" his green eyes met mine instantly, the pain behind them causing my chest to constrict. He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to physically get rid of the awful thoughts raging through his mind. He opened his mouth as if he was going to ask another question but closed it just as quickly, turning around so I was looking at his back. It was just getting worse. Sliding out of control.

"Harry," I said pleadingly, " with what I know, I didn't know if it would have been a good idea to – "

"_Shut up_!" Harry shouted suddenly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I took a step backwards, this time truly afraid he would attack me. "I don't want to know any more of you _ideas_!"

He stood there for a second, panting heavily, before stalking towards the door. This time it wasn't locked. Harry pulled it open using all his strength, the door banging loudly against the wall as it swung closed again behind him.

I stood frozen for a moment, staring at the doorway where Harry had disappeared in shock.

"Dumbledore – " I turned wildly towards his chair behind his grand desk, my hands coming up to my face in exasperation. But Dumbledore wasn't sitting there anymore, now going regarding his collection of ragged novels.

"Professor," I said angrily, not caring about the tone of my voice. Dumbledore was ignoring me, purposely. And I knew it. But why?

"What can I do?" I was pleading, tears of frustration collecting in the corners of my eyes.

Dumbledore turned around, his own blue eyes so stark against his pale skin and hair.

"I thought about telling him before – telling you – " I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder at the doorway Harry had slammed in my face. It was so hard, trying to describe what I was feeling; the tearing sensation that was ripping through me. "I thought I could help. I thought I _was_ helping."

Dumbledore was silent for too long. At least he had turned around to look at me.

"Where's Hermione? Ron? They could talk some sense into him. Hermione ought to believe me." I was saying everything mostly for my own benefit. As if the more times I verbalized my thoughts, the more they would become true.

"Hermione and Ron are both bedridden in the Hospital Wing, I am afraid," Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully over his glasses, speaking of my crisis as if it was a exciting opportunity sadly missed.

I turned around to look at the door again, then at Dumbledore who had returned to his novel gazing the moment I had diverted my attention. I couldn't believe him. Dumbledore, the man everyone in the Wizarding World looked up to – even feared – was hardly paying me any attention as Harry was running off to who knows where. I waited for a few more moments. Waiting for Dumbledore to say something. To say anything.

Exasperated, I gave up, turning on my heel to run towards the door. My hand found the cold knob, wrenching it sideways. It happened so quick I hardly had time to stop myself before I collided with the heavy wood, cursing as the nob refused to turn under my hand.

It was locked.

"Dumbledore!" I cried out, twisting the doorknob one last time to make sure I hadn't been pretending. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Andrea," Dumbledore did seem truly apologetic, " but you can't."

"Open the door."

Dumbledore didn't answer, his eyes holding more secrets than I could ever hope of knowing.

"I said," I growled, a strange feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach, "_open_ – _the_ – _door _– "

The same gut-wrenching feeling I had felt back in the lobby of Ministry of Magic filled my stomach again. There was a strong burst of wind that shattered the windows, knocked paintings off the wall, and sent papers around the room flying upwards towards the ceiling. I lunged for the door again and this time it twisted under my touch. I bolted out of the room, not even turning to look back at the headmaster as I sprinted down the staircase and out into the hall.

Harry was turning the corner, his robes whipping around the corner. I ran after him, calling his name, pushing past anyone or thing that stood in my way. My footsteps pounded through the large corridors. I was running faster than I had ever run in my life.

"HARRY!"

I had managed to catch up with him at the entrance to the Great Hall. Students were making their way down the grand staircase for breakfast, all of them stopping as I yelled his name, staring in horror at the two of us. We must have been a sight to see, covered in blood. Harry, though, continued to walk briskly away from me.

"STOP!"

Harry paused, his back still to me. I took it as my opportunity to sprint, reaching out for him as I drew closer. _He would understand_, I kept telling myself. _He _had_ to understand_. My hand touched the side of his arm and Harry flinched, jumping backwards at my touch.

I stiffened next to him, sliding to a stop, panting.

"Harr – "

"Don't talk to me!" Harry yelled suddenly. People were starting to stare. I tried to reach for him again but he pulled away from me.

"Harry, you have to understand that – " I pleaded while my eyes darted to take in the amount of students who had actually stopped. He cut me off without any intent of being polite.

"That you lied to me?" He was livid. I had never seen him like this before, other than facing Bellatrix.

"I didn't lie!" I was attempting to defend myself, stepping forward as my voice grew louder.

"Then what was it?"

"I – I never_, never,_ meant to lie to you! _How_ was I supposed to explain it? You would have thought of me a freak!"

Harry glared at me with a look of distaste. "We'll, I guess you were right."

It would have been better if had physically struck me. The words bit into me deep, and I stepped back as if he had lashed out. But in the next moment anger flared within me.

"You're really gonna act like this? I tried Harry, I _tried_."

"Yeah, you might have, but if you can't tell, he's still gone. He's _dead_, Andy!"

"Damn it, Harry, _I know he's dead_!" I shouted and a people jumped at my words. Harry looked at me in alarm by the outburst, and his blazing green eyes glinted damply. Instantly, I regretted what I had said.

"What would you have done?" My tone was gentler, but more desperate.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said sarcastically, giving a full-body shrug for dramatic effect. "Let's see . . . maybe _tell_ _me_!"

"You make it sound so bloody simple, Harry," my voice was rising again. "What did you want me to do? Tell you what? That he was going to die and there was nothing you could do about it!"

"For all we know, he could still be here," Harry pointed a finger in my direction, "But thanks to _you_, that can't happen anymore, can it?"

"Thanks to me?" I was back at shouting again. "Harry, there was nothing to be done! He was going to die! What else was I suppose to do?"

"Save him? That seems like a pretty good answer to me," he spat.

"I wanted to, Harry! You think I just stood there like it was nothing? Don't you even remember what I did for you hours ago? What I've _been_ doing for you!"

"You know what," Harry was seething. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

He turned on his heel and made a path through the group of students and staff too frightened to step in and stop us before one left with something broken; which was becoming more plausible as I walked after him.

"You don't want to talk to me?" I shrieked. "That's it? You don't want to talk to me so you're just going to _walk away_?"

"No! That's not just it!" Harry roared, whirling around to face me again. "You can never understand this, Andy. _Never_! No matter what Dumbledore says! No matter what you believe you _think_ you know!"

He didn't give me a chance to take a breath. Our voices had been echoing off the walls moments before, but now I was sure the whole castle could hear.

"You want to know the truth?" His expression was wild and I forced myself not to back away. Harry whirled around aimlessly in his anger, looking at all the bystanders but not exactly seeing them. When he turned to look back at me, my heart constricted so suddenly in my chest I almost shuddered.

"I trusted you," he was almost whispering now, clearly fighting back tears. "I can't believe I was stupid enough – I fell for it, Andy, and, I must say, you do put on quite a show. Hermione was right – Hermione's always right. I was a fool."

My mouth opened but nothing came out. Harry only looked down at me, his face impassive.

"It's not like that, Harry, please," I was begging. It was all going wrong. So horribly wrong. "Just listen to me, I can –"

"Do you think - do you think I give a - I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY! I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!"

My blood ran cold as he shouted at me, pure hatred in his voice. I couldn't hide my expression, tears already streaming down my face. It took everything I had not to turn and run, my hands shaking vehemently at my side. I jerked my head to the side, stray hairs clinging to the sides of my wet face.

"I thought you were different," I barely whispered. I didn't yell at him anymore. I couldn't. His words had stung more than any physical pain I had already been through tonight, but he was stabbing me in places I could never heal with a flick of my wand.

"I trusted _you_," I could barely get the words out. My throat was burning unpleasantly, making my words jerky and strained.

"Well," he said rather bitterly and I didn't miss the tear that slid quietly down the side of his face before disappearing under his bloody jaw, "you lied to _me_, Andy."

"I . . . –" I cut myself off. It wouldn't have done any good; nothing was going to persuade him. I was losing the only person who I had ever cared about more than my own family, and there was nothing I could do or say to stop it from happening right before my eyes.

Harry suddenly seemed to notice the crowd that had gathered around us, staring with their awful, judging, and beady eyes. He looked back only once, his beautiful green eyes flashing before I was left looking at the back of his head until the castle doors echoed shut throughout the now silent corridor.


	34. Never Trust a Former Death Eater

_**Disclaimer: **_**I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

Everyone was staring.

They were whispering, their voices harsh. Their gaze judging, trapping me. Bloodied, torn robes and matted hair. I could feel their eyes on me, raking over my body. Harry's last words still echoed in my mind, like an awful broken record left to repeat the same thing over and over again.

"_You lied to me, Andy." _

I had been protecting him; I had saved his life countless times that night. But that didn't seem to matter as I lifted my gaze to look at the dozens of people who surrounded me, none of them the boy I had met all those month ago on the train.

I turned and ran. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I had to get out of there. I ran for what seemed like forever, twisting through the labyrinth of hallways that seemed to swallow me up.

I barged into the girl's bathroom, the door smacking against the wall as I pushed it open, running straight for the sinks. I twisted the faucet knob hard, collapsing over the ceramic bowl as my body shivered with uncontrollable sobs.

"Who would have thought Gryffindors could be so pathetic."

I whipped my head up to stare at the last person I truly wanted to see. Her black eye liner made her light eyes stand out, a matching green to her Slytherin robes. Pansy Parkinson glared at me with her hard face, her dark, thin eyebrows cocked. Her lips were already pulled into a sneer – one that could have competed against Malfoy himself.

"Get away from me, Pansy," I spat, plunging my hands back under the running water. It felt good against my heated skin, and I wasn't about to let her get to me.

"Alright then," she sneered, but she didn't make a move to leave. Her tiny elbow leaned against the far sink as I cupped my hand underneath the faucet, splashing the gathered water in my face.

"What are you staring at?" I stopped, wiping the water away from my face. It had gotten most of the blood off, but now the awful cuts were visible, stark against my light skin.

"You," Pansy stated simply. "I was wondering how someone like Potter could be attracted to someone as simple as you."

I didn't move, biting down hard on my lip. "I think you should leave."

Pansy rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "And I suppose you are going to make me?"

I brushed it off, pulling up my sleeves to run my arms underneath the sink, the water running red as I tended to a long slash I had gotten across the length of my arm. It stretched all the way from the end of my wrist to my elbow, but I had no idea how I had gotten it. It stung underneath the water pressure and I cringed, inhaling quickly through my teeth.

"Every time I see you two together, you are always covered in blood," Pansy sounded disgusted, but I didn't care. "What do you do together? Have your own, immoral little killing sprees? Draco always said Potter was crazy. I assume all you Gryffindors just adore him, do you?" She was taunting me and I wasn't going to deny it, she was great at getting underneath a person's skin. My anger flared as she stepped closer.

"Though," she paused, her high-pitched voice almost singsong, "after what just happened, I daresay he doesn't adore you anymore."

That was it. I lunged, twisting the front of her robes into my fist. I yanked her forward, throwing her against the sink.

"Now I see it," Pansy didn't even seem fazed. "You both have terrible tempers."

She pulled herself out of my grasp easily, straightening her robes. "Stupid Potter punched Draco in the nose just for calling his name out. He was lucky we were on the grounds, or a professor would have sure seen. Well, this time, I know he will be expelled for sure-"

"What did you just say?" I had just been about to leave when it had hit me.

"Your boyfriend was stupid enough to make my Draco bleed!" Pansy seemed tortured at the thought. I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for Harry, despite of everything. "_You_ already broke his nose once already."

"Is that what this is all about?" I yelled. "Your _precious_ Draco tied me up and threw me to the floor. I gave him the least of what he deserved."

"At least he isn't a rule breaker," Pansy shot back. "Leaving grounds is forbidden, anyone who attends this school knows that."

"Wait – " I wasn't angry anymore. I had thought she had just been playing with me, trying to make me angry again. But the longer I looked at her pug-like face, the more I realized she wasn't kidding around anymore. "You say he – "

"Yes, he left school," now Pansy was yelling. "If he thinks that can get him out of facing his punishment, then he is surely – _hey!_"

I didn't wait for her to finish, turning on my heel and running out of the bathroom as if my life depended upon it. But I knew Harry's life depended upon it. If he truly had left – what would that do? Why would he be so stupid to think about leaving anyway? I didn't care about the stares as I took the steps two at a time. By the time I had reached the seventh floor, I was out of breath, my whole body sore and shaking with fatigue.

I shouted the password to the Fat Lady, pulling her open when she didn't move fast enough, darting straight for the boy's dormitory. I heard my name called from the common room, but I didn't stop until I had reached the fifth landing, using my shoulder to open the door.

"_Andy – what the hell?_"

I stared around wildly, going straight for Harry's bed. The covers were thrown on the floor, the curtains wide open. The nightstand was empty, but so was the trunk at the foot of the bed, a few shirts and robes strewn across the floor.

"Where's Harry?" I turned to see Seamus and Dean, who were both staring at me in horror. Seamus, at my question, hurriedly continued scrambling into his pants. Dean watched from his side of the room, bare-chested and holding his shirt in his hands.

"Dunno," he said, ducking behind one of his curtains. "He barged in here a while ago, ranting. We didn't want to bother him, but he left in a hurry."

I cursed, ducking out of the room before Seamus could yell at me again. I didn't bother to shut it, sprinting back down the stairs. I heard the voices in the common room too late, colliding with someone's thick chest so hard all the breath was knocked out of my lungs.

"Andy, what were you doing up in the boys dormitory?" Fred teased as I pulled away, but his smile disappeared as he looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"Harry," I gasped. "Harry's gone."

"Harry's _gone_?"

I wrenched myself out of his grasp, pushing past his twin on my hurry to get to the portrait door. "I have to find Dumbledore!"

It took me only minutes to get to the headmaster's office. I don't think I'd ever ran faster in my life, barreling around corners and through groups of students on their way to breakfast. If Harry was truly gone, he was in grave danger. Hogwarts was the only place he could be safe. If he left – there wasn't any telling what Voldemort could do to him.

I didn't want to think about that. I pushed the thought from my mind as I slid to a halt in front of the giant eagle. I would find Harry. Dumbledore would know what to do.

"Fizzing Whizbees," I cried, starting forward. But the eagle wasn't moving. I stopped, staring up at its large, pointed face above me. What was I doing wrong? I tried every password I knew, but the eagle didn't budge. I cursed, slamming my hand against the wall.

"Dammit, Dumbledore!" I yelled. "What are you doing?"

Behind me, the group of third years who I had passed earlier had finally caught up. They grew quiet, quickening their paces until they were safely around the corner.

I was fuming. Dumbledore was ignoring me, purposefully. I just knew it. Why would he not want to help me? I let out a cry, running my hands through my hair. I had to clam down. There had to be someone in this school who would be able to help me. McGonagall was still in the hospital. She wouldn't be able to help me for a few more weeks, and I didn't have weeks.

That's when it hit me.

I set off into a sprint again, taking so many staircases down that I began to feel dizzy. I ran past the Great Hall, turning into one of the smaller hallways off to the side. I couldn't afford to get lost now.

Snape was the only one left in the Order at the school. He could help me. He could contact Dumbledore, he would understand. He had to; he was my last hope.

I hit the door running, my hand reaching for the knob so that I could burst through. But I slammed against the wood when the knob didn't turn underneath my hand. I tried again, jiggling it helplessly.

It was locked.

"No! Professor!" I cried, slamming my fists against the door that led into the dungeons. "Professor! Please!" Snape had to open the door. If not – I didn't want to think about that either. I continued banging on the door so loudly that I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. "Please! It's urgent!"

"Goodrich, what are you doing pounding on my door?"

I yelped, jumping at least two feet into the air as I whipped around to see Snape regarding me thoughtfully, one of his greasy eyebrows cocked in a questionable expression. Relief flooded through me so quickly I started shaking, forced to lean into the door for support.

"Professor," I sobbed. I was a mess, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. Tears started to cascade down my face at the thought of Harry. "Please, I can't – " I hated crying in front of Snape, but I couldn't stop, all of my emotions exploding at once. I didn't care if he thought I was some loony, hormone crazed, teenage girl. I just needed to talk to him.

Snape waved his hand and the door clicked open behind me. I tripped, stumbling over my own feet as the door swung inwards. A hand caught me on the shoulder and Snape led me deeper into his classroom as I babbled incoherently. I found myself in a chair, Snape moving around quickly in front of me as he gathered something from his desk.

"I have to talk to you, Professor," I stopped, glancing up at Snape with watering eyes. "Where is Dumbledore?"

"The headmaster left on an urgent call, Miss Goodrich," Snape corrected me, shoving something in my hands. I looked down at the teacup hesitantly, the brownish liquid steaming and the least bit appealing.

"It's a calming draught," Snape said. "Drink it."

I lifted the cup to my lips slowly, very aware that I was shaking. The cup shook against my lips and I forced myself to take a large gulp, the warm liquid soothing my throat.

"Thank you," I mumbled, dropping the cup back into my lap. Snape's hand suddenly darted forward, grabbing the opposite side of the teacup. I stopped, my tearstained face jerking up to meet his dark gaze.

"You have to drink it before it cools," Snape said, his black eyes unreadable.

I lifted the cup to my lips again, the warm liquid not feeling as pleasant the second time down. I coughed, gagging as the rest of the drink slid into my stomach.

"It doesn't taste very good," I sputtered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Snape took a seat in a chair in front of me, ignoring my remark.

"Why do you need to see Dumbledore?"

"He – " I didn't know where to start. "Harry has left, I know he has – "

"Potter? Is this a result of your exchange earlier in the hall?" Snape said and my heart sunk. If Snape knew about our fight, then the whole school was probably gossiping about us. But I didn't want to talk about that.

"No," I said. "Yes, I mean – Harry is gone, Professor. He has left Hogwarts. I can't find him anywhere. His trunk has been – "

"Does it occur to you that he might not want to be found?"

"That's not what I mean!" I shouted, the chair tumbling to the floor as I stood angrily. "His room has been cleaned out – Malfoy even saw him on the grounds!" I actually stomped my foot and Snape's eyes grew wide; it was the first time I had ever seen him react to something. "One of your students has gone missing and no one is here to do anything about it!"

Snape didn't say anything, watching me closely. I cried out in exasperation, starting to pace, twisting the teacup nervously in my hands. In the few minutes that had passed, I was already starting to go through all the events that had gone wrong. "Harry never heard the prophecy," I mused aloud. "He only heard to two lines I spoke after Dumbledore – "

Snape didn't react in the way I had expected him to. In fact, he didn't say anything at the mention of the prophecy, instead staring at the cup in my hands.

"Professor, Harry isn't supposed to leave Hogwarts now," I said. "If Harry leaves like this, it could mean that something that isn't supposed to happen – "

I froze in my tracks, an odd sensation sweeping through my body like ice. It started as a tingling feeling, something slight in the tips of my fingers and toes. But then I felt it and I gasped, my hand going to my throat. The teacup fell from my limp grasp, shattering into pieces at my feet.

"Prof – "

I couldn't breathe. It was like I was being smothered, darkness pressing against me from all sides. My vision ran black as I felt my body sway. My limbs felt as if they weighed as heavy as concrete blocks. My head fell backwards as the potion took over, my eyes fluttering closed in one last attempt to find my chair and I slipped, landing heavily on the stone floor.

The last thing I saw was Snape, his dark figure looming over me before my eyes closed for the last time.

…

He was running, running from black figures that seemed to melt from the shadows. It was night and the lights from a nearby town shone like flickering candles in the distance. The lights were so close, but just out of his reach.

They had known. Somehow they had followed him. The moment he had stepped off the grounds they had been in the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to strike.

His breaths were coming out in pants. He was tired; I could feel it. His dark hair was plastered to his face as the rain slapped him repeatedly. But he wasn't going to stop.

There was a jet of purple light and an ominous ripping noise and Harry sprinted to beat the heavy tree branch that split above his head. But he slipped, his sneakers unable to find traction on the wet grass. The branch caught him in the shoulder and he fell hard against the ground, his cloak slipping from his grasp.

I watched as the Death Eaters surrounded him. He tried to stand and I glimpsed the red gleam of blood through his ripped shirt. He cringed as the rain splattered the open wound, his glasses cracked and covered in dirt. One hooded figure grabbed him from behind as another thrust a wand in his face, the glowing tip pressing against the side of his neck.

I tired to cry out, but I could only stare as a Death Eater jerked back his left sleeve, Harry's eyes going wide in fear. He attempted to pull out of the Death Eater's grasp, managing to pull his other arm free; but there was a flash of red light and Harry fell limp in the Death Eater's arms. The man dropped him with disgust, Harry's unconscious body crumpling to the ground in a heap. The black shadows laughed, the noise whispering against the thundering wind. The Death Eater who had shoved his wand forward turn to press it against the skull tattoo that was inked on his inside of his arm. The darkness seemed to grow denser, the wind picking up speed. Even Stunned, Harry began to stir as his scar seared with pain.

The wind ceased so suddenly the Death Eaters stopped laughing immediately. It was as if I was hovering over the nightmare that was unfolding right before my eyes. Everything was so crystals clear, even Voldemort's pale, moon like skin as he stepped forward, the Death Eaters parting to make a path towards Harry.

Harry was starting to rise, struggling, holding his bleeding arm against his chest. He had no wand, nothing to defend himself as Voldemort's hand struck out as quickly as a cobra, latching onto the collar of his robes. Harry cried out as Voldemort threw him backwards, roughly colliding against a tree. He lost his footing and slipped, crashing to his knees in the soft mud. He stopped moving, his head bent as the hem of Voldemort's robes paused in front of him. The wand pressed underneath his jaw forced him to look up, into those awful eyes as they stared down at him, glinting with pleasure.

"I should kill you now, boy," Voldemort sneered. Behind him, the Death Eaters crackled with laughter. Harry clenched his jaw shut, frozen by the touch of Voldemort's wand. But Voldemort lifted it away and, at the snap of his fingers, the Death Eaters enclosed around Harry, pulling him up to his feet. The Dark Lord leaned in close, his face inches away from Harry's.

"But I'll show you some mercy and spare your life," Voldemort paused, his hairless face rising in a mocking gesture, "for now, at least." Voldemort cackled at his own joke, the Death Eaters hooting along after him like stupid apes. Harry grimaced, crying out as one of the hooded figures pulled on his wounded arm.

Voldemort turned, his red eyes lifting upwards, towards the flickering lights that were now so close. If I could have gasped, I would have. The castle, even in darkness, was recognizable. The giant towers loomed over the treetops, the stained windows of the Great Hall dancing with life.

Voldemort smiled again, stepping forward into the night.

I woke back in Gryffindor tower, on top of my bed. I was still fully dressed, my bloody robes sticking to my skin like sadistic glue. I groaned as I pushed myself upright, the room going blurry as I opened my eyes. With a jolt, I remembered Snape. I cursed verbally, slamming my fist into my pillow. He had drugged me. The professor had actually slipped something into my drink. I stood quickly, ignoring my head as it swam uncomfortably, reaching for my wand that was on my bedside table. My eyes grazed over the window, but I didn't register what I had seen until my hand was on the doorknob. I stiffened, my footsteps hesitant as I made my way back towards my bed.

It was raining.


	35. The Astronomy Tower

_**Disclaimer: **_**I only own my character, Andy. Without JK Rowling, there would be no story.**

I didn't do anything until I had taken a shower.

The water felt amazing, rolling off my back, soothing the muscles. I had peeled my robes off the moment I had stepped into the bathroom, cringing as the cloth stuck to my skin. I tossed the ball of ruined clothes into the corner of the room, stepping underneath the showerhead as quickly as possible, despite the fact that the water hadn't had the chance to heat up yet. The dirt and grime came off first; my feet left slight black imprints before they were washed away down the drain. It was the blood that took the longest. For forever, the shower seemed to run red with the stuff, clinging to my skin. I washed my hair at least six times, working the shampoo so hard that my fingernails scraped against my scalp. My skin was left pink by the time I had stepped out of the shower, scrubbed so roughly that I was sure I had taken off a layer of skin.

I don't know how long I was standing underneath the shower, letting the water cascade down my face. It wouldn't take me too long to relax, my muscles starting to feel like jello the longer I stayed submerged. But then I would remember. Remember the blood on my clothes, on my body. The attack on the Ministry. Sirius's death. And then Harry. Then it would take me twice as long to calm down again, my mind stuck in the strange, sick cycle of grief and guilt.

I wandered down to the Great Hall in a trance, not even remembering what robes I had thrown on moments before. I hadn't bothered to dry my hair, though by the time I stepped through the giant double doors, I had been walking slow enough that only the tips were still soaked. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn that the noise level, that had once been almost overwhelming, dropped as soon as I made my way towards the Gryffindor table. I moved instinctively, already having walked the path so many times. I tried to push the thought away, but I was so distracted I barely noticed I had sat down next to Ginny before she started talking to me.

"You're up," she said politely, pausing with the fork halfway up to her mouth, setting it back down on her plate."I came into your dormitory to check on you earlier, if you don't mind, but you were out cold."

"No," I said, my eyes narrowing. I had been trying not to think about how the Head of Slytherin had slipped the sleeping potion into my drink. For all I had known at the time, he could have been trying to kill me. "That's fine."

Ginny nodded, but I stopped paying attention as my gaze slid towards the staff table. Snape was there, of course, staring down at his plate as if it was loaded with mud instead of elaborate meats and breads. But out of the corner of my eye I noted the amount of empty seats that were noticeable at the Gryffindor table.

"Where is everyone?"

"Still in the Hospital Wing. Ron and Hermione are both awake, but it's going to take her a few more days to recover. No one really knows what she was hit with."

"And how are you feeling?" I stared down at the food in front of me, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

"A broken ankle is easy to fix," she smiled. "Luna's alright too, she came down with me."

I followed Ginny's gaze towards Luna's messy cascade of platinum blond curls, sighing in relief. As I turned towards Ginny again, my elbow collided with my empty goblet, sending it tumbling to the floor. The crash was barely heard over the noise of the Great Hall, but when I straightened up I stopped, realizing that everyone was staring at me.

"Are you alright?" Ginny was no longer smiling and the whole side of the Gryffindor table seemed to fall silent, as if waiting for my answer.

I set the goblet back on the table slowly, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. I studied the top of the wooden table, the swirls oddly enchanting.

"It's all around the school now," Ginny confirmed my worst fear, lowering her voice as she leaned forward. "Everyone heard. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied, putting on my best fake smile. Ginny didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. The rest of the table took a moment longer to recover, finally realizing that I wasn't going to spill anything to them. I was thankful when the familiar silent hush fell over the entire hall as the students all turned towards the staff table. I kept my eyes trained on my hands, staring at the scarred skin as footsteps echoed through the hall as someone walked up to the podium. My heart jumped in my chest. Dumbledore couldn't ignore me now. As soon as his speech was over, I was going to make myself march up to the staff table and demand answers. I took a deep breath, one last fruitless attempt to calm myself.

"What the –?"

My head snapped up at Ginny's gasp, eyes immediately going for the center of the hall. I started, only because the person standing behind the podium was not the man I had been expecting.

"There has been a change in plans," Snape drawled, looking relatively bored as he addressed the student body, his dark eyes drooping. "Professor Dumbledore will be unable to attend this years end feat due to his – "

The rest of what Snape was going to say was swallowed by a sudden rush of the crowd as everyone started whispering at the same time. I couldn't help thinking that, whatever the reason Dumbledore was absent tonight had to do with me. Snape waited for a few moments, casting a pathetic glance over the Gryffindor table, his dark eyes stopping on me. My breath caught in my throat, my insides flaring with rage. If he thought he could drug me and get away with it, the greasy snake was in for a great surprise. But our stare was broken as Snape's eyes flew towards the Slytherin table. My own followed his gaze, eyebrows knotting in confusion as I stared at nothing but black hoods.

"Silence!"

Every student stopped talking at once, even a few teachers who had paused to chat freezing with their hands covering their mouths. Snape appeared as if he hadn't moved, his hands clutching the sides of the winged podium.

"Tonight, we will be having a change of plans," Snape continued on as if nothing had happened, but the sudden tension that ran through the air was tangible. At the staff table, all of the teachers stiffened, turning their heads at one another in confusion. The same thing was happening at the four house tables. The whispering was starting again, kids giving each other curious glances. In front of me, Ginny cocked her head to the side and Neville shot me a cautious glance, his nose as straight as it was before he had been kicked in the face.

"A new dawn has arisen," Snape's voice rose with each word. My blood ran cold as the meaning of his words settled. I didn't like this. "Tonight the world will realize the power they have misjudged."

I finally realized what Snape was hinting at. My eyes drifted towards the Slytherin table again. The hunched over, hooded students were moving. One of the closest turned around, her heavily lidded eyes glinting, her mouth pulled into a sadistic smile. Bellatrix Lestrange's face was hidden in a matter of seconds, but I knew there was no mistaking the woman. For a moment, I couldn't move. If Bellatrix was here, in the castle, then that only meant –

"What is Snape talking about?" Ginny turned around, her eyes narrowing as she took in my expression. I was so shocked I couldn't move my lips to tell her. How did that woman get into the castle? Dumbledore was sure to have put up charms to keep any unwanted –

"The Wizarding World will realize the mistake they have made soon enough," Snape said. Everyone was talking all at once now. The teachers were moving, standing, the students leaning over tables as they whispered to anyone and everyone. I was standing before I realized what I was doing, my hand reaching for my wand from the pocket inside my robes. Snape turned to look at me, one arm raised high above his head. He paused, his dark eyes flashing before a blinding white light shot from the tip. A hundred voices cried out in terror at once, students screaming as the stained glass windows shattered, a thousand pieces of shrapnel raining down from the charmed starry night sky.

Everything that happened next I can hardly remember. A dozen hooded figures stood from the Slytherin table, their wands pointed into the mass of students rather than at the shattering windows. The entire student body scattered, tripping over one another on their beeline for the grand doors as glass continued to pour over our heads. Someone hit me hard in the shoulder, spinning me backwards onto the table, a disarray of goblets and plates of food tumbling to the floor around me. I picked myself up quickly, dashing for the staff's table, shoving my way through screaming students.

"Andy!" Someone was screaming for me, but I didn't stop. This was all Snape's fault. I knew it. He had let them in. He had hid them.

But when I finally got to the podium, it was empty. Curses and jinxes were already flying around me, over my head and crashing into the walls with so much force they left burnt marks. The gaping hole that had once been the windows was as black as pitch, a rainbow of glass crunching underneath my shoes. But that's not what made me pause. It wasn't the hundreds of voices who were screaming nor was it the shouts of the dozen Death Eaters who were cornering students. Outside, stark against the night, were hundreds of tiny, blue orbs, like the ones emitted from a wand – I cursed loudly, twisting around and ducking underneath the podium as a wild curse flew over my head. Everything inside me wanted to tell me that I was wrong, that there wasn't an entire infantry of Death Eaters on Hogwarts's doorstep.

"_Crucio_!"

I dove off the platform and underneath the Hufflepuff table as the curse smacked into the podium so hard it toppled over, crashing to the floor as one of the wings of the bird snapped off. I Stunned the Death Eater in the next clear shot I had, knocking another into the wall behind it as a terrified second-year had stood cowering in its path. Pulling myself up to my feet, I ran for the doors, hopping over the scattered Hufflepuff table as I spotted Ginny's flaming head through the sea of people. Everyone was heading for the doors at once, pushing and shoving in their attempt to escape. She turned around wildly, her gaze meeting mine as I stood upon the table, her hand suddenly pointing to something behind me.

"Look out!"

Ginny had barely shouted as a hand closed over my shoulder. I whirled around, my wand already buzzing before I had even uttered a spell. The Death Eater flew back, his mask flying as he landed hard in the corner of the Great Hall. I ran forward, grabbing the front of his robes as he tried to stand, pressing him against the wall. I felt Ginny beside me as the man lifted his head, his left eye already starting to swell in front of us.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Ginny screamed, pushing her wand harder into the man's side. The man only laughed at her displeasure; he was someone I had never seen nor heard of before, his face just another unrecognizable being. I let go of his robes quickly, slashing my wand over his body twice as he slumped over, collapsing on the floor in a dark heap.

"We need to find Dumbledore," Ginny shouted.

"He's not in his office! You go see if Ron or Hermione know where he is," I shouted. Ginny nodded, spinning on her heel and towards the doors. She turned around suddenly, her hand reaching for me, her words getting lost in the chaos as she tried to get back to me.

"Ginny!"

But she was already being swept away, pulled deeper into the throng of people.

I ducked again as something crashed above me and the Fat Friar soared over my head, his howl ringing through the hall in a long, piercing note. I needed to find Snape, no matter what Ginny was doing. Wherever Snape was going, maybe it was somewhere I could find Harry.

I almost missed him, his black robes melting in with the night seeping in through the missing windows. I had just pulled myself up as my gaze had been drawn towards the staff's table, where Snape and another Death Eater stood behind Dumbledore's chair, heading for the door on the opposite side of the hall. My fingers tightened around my wand. I wasn't going to let him get away with this.

I made it to the door just as it closed behind him, slamming through with so much force it smacked into the wall. I didn't pause though, tearing through the passage and past a cracked door that led into the bustling main hall. Ahead of me, I could hear Snape and the other Death Eater, just far enough away for me to try to jinx them. The passage ended quickly, the door opening to utter disaster. I followed Snape through the halls as people screamed, running for cover. He reared left as a Death Eater fighting a group of seventh-years made the floor shift. I lost my footing, pushing myself up messily in my hurry to catch up with Snape as the tip of his robe whipped around the far corner. I ran for what seemed like forever, almost losing Snape multiple times as I tore through the endless hallways. It was when I rounded the last corner I saw Snape completely, his cloak moving like a dark river behind him. I added a new burst of speed, sprinting for the door as it shut with a thud. I threw it open quickly with my shoulder, stopping as I recognized the circling stairs that seemed to climb into the heavens.

The Astronomy Tower.

I barely paused, taking the winding steps two at a time. I was exhausted and dizzy by the time I had almost reached the top, but I had the intelligence to slow down before I reached the landing, knowing that Snape had no where else to go.

"It's over, Albus."

My entire body froze, my foot on the last step that led to the circular room. I couldn't move, my limbs unresponsive. I yelped, or at least tried to, when I stopped moving suddenly, caught off guard. I had no choice but to stand there as my eyes were fixed forward, unable to turn my head away. I knew immediately that I had been jinxed, frozen into position by the one man I had been so desperately seeking.

The scene in front of me was dark; Snape's black robes were hardly visible in the night. A young man stood next to him, his now visible blond hair contrasting with his tan skin and equally somber robes. I didn't recognize him. His robes were unmarked, but I didn't miss the dark flash of a tattoo against his wrist as his arms lifted in a mocking gesture.

"The Dark Lord will be here in mere moments," he said, throwing his head back in a laugh.

It was the first time I had seen Dumbledore since coming home from the Ministry.

He was still in the same clothes; his periwinkle robes glinted sliver in the moonlight. His long beard was combed neatly and gathered at his chest with a dark blue ribbon. The half moon spectacles on his nose magnified those pale eyes, seemingly calm for someone unarmed. He turned to the boy slowly, not even bothering to hide his expression of pity.

"I had feared the worst when your mother said you would not be attending your last year, Finnian, but – "

"My mother's dead," the boy barked, his fingers tightening around his wand so much that the knuckles turned white against the dark wood. "Murdered just like my father."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dumbledore did appear truly touched for the boy's lost, his voice soothing yet full of empathy.

"No you're not," he snapped again. His arm swept up towards Dumbledore, a curse already forming upon his lips.

"Stop," Snape's hand shot out quickly, grabbing the boy by the wrist. But he didn't take his eyes off Dumbledore.

It was hopeless trying to make myself move even a finger. I was stuck, hidden in the shadows. But I _had_ to move. There _had_ to be a way. Dumbledore had jinxed me to keep me hidden, I knew that. But I wasn't going to stop trying, no matter how many times the voice in the back of my head said it was useless.

"What is your problem?" The boy Dumbledore had called Finnian whirled, his eyes blazing with an insane fire. He yanked his wrist away with unnecessary force and Snape let go lazily. The boy seemed irate with the fact he had been stopped, practically fuming at the ears.

"How long?"

The question caught me so off guard I would have stopped if I had been moving. Dumbledore's attention was focused entirely upon Snape, his eyes unwavering as he asked the question. It took me a moment to realize what he was taking about, but when I did, my heart almost broke into more pieces than it already was in.

Snape didn't answer immediately. "The Dark Lord has known about the attack for months."

_Months? _What was Snape talking about? There was no way Voldemort had been planning upon surrounding Hogwarts months in advance. Not now, at least.

Dumbledore nodded, as if he had been expecting such an answer. He took a step forward and Finnian tensed, bringing his wand up to point at Dumbledore's chest. "If it is me you want, Severus, I'll go over without a fight. Just tell Tom to call off his men."

Snape's eyes darkened at the sound of Voldemort's name, if that was even possible. "My Lord does not wish for me to bring you to him. He already has what he wants."

Inside my chest, my heart skipped a beat. He couldn't mean –

"Then what is he trying to get across to me by attacking my students?"

"My Lord found your interference – " Snape cut himself off suddenly before he continued, "inevitable."

Dumbledore's own gaze, for the first time that night, narrowed. He regarded Snape with a cold expression, his blue eyes sliding over the potion master's shoulder quickly to glance at my frozen, horrified expression.

"How could you do this to your own students? What about Harry?" Dumbledore was starting to worry me now. It wasn't that I didn't trust the man; I knew he would do anything for me better than anyone else. But there was something wrong. Dumbledore _didn't_ know. Truthfully, the more I stood there, helpless, I couldn't help realizing how much the headmaster didn't know. "The boy will never be able to get through this without you, you know that, Severus. Lily would have died in vain."

"Don't you dare speak her name!" Snape shouted, suddenly livid with rage. His wand pushed Finnian's aside, but only to train its point at a spot beneath Dumbledore's chin. "You have no idea what I've been through. You have no idea how – " Snape stopped, gasping. His greasy hair had fallen into his eyes, shadowing his face.

"I can help you," Dumbledore said, extending a hand towards Snape, "just like I did before."

Snape paused, panting as he stood before Dumbledore, who had still not even bothered to raise his own wand. I knew in the back of my mind that he didn't need one, but the small action made me realize Dumbledore was never going to attack.

"Severus," Dumbledore was pleading. Actually pleading. But I stayed frozen, swallowed by the shadows. "Please."

Snape didn't answer, but I knew he was going to put his wand down. Snape was on Dumbledore's side. It didn't matter if there were any witnesses. He was not going to kill him, the man who had promised to protect the last living memory he had of Lily.

"_Avada Kadavra_!"

It was like someone had stopped time. Everything slowed down. Snape raised his wand, his oversized sleeve billowing in the wind. Dumbledore didn't move as the jet of green light soared towards him; the color filled the room, seeping into the night. I couldn't do anything to stop it, my limbs frozen at my sides. I fought to raise my wand, but it was stuck to my hip like someone had glued it to my body. No amount of struggling was going to fix anything. Dumbledore's blue eyes found mine through the glowing green light. He nodded once, not even looking at the spell as it hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet. His head snapped back as his body tumbled backwards lethargically, straight over the railing.

"_NO!_"

It was like someone had dunked me in a pool of boiling water. Every one of my nerves was on fire, suddenly able to move. I ran for the edge, screaming, my arms outstretched. No. This couldn't be happening. It _wasn't_ happening. But when I slid to the edge of the tower, I stopped cold as someone screamed. But the scream wasn't mine, nor was it anywhere close. It echoed from the grounds, it's horrifying sound causing the hairs on my arms to stand up on end. My hand stopped on the railing, grateful to be able to move again. But the sinking feeling that swept through me brought tears to my eyes. If I could move again, the person who had cast the spell had to be –

It was like someone had punched me in the gut. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. Everything blurred together like it was melting. I pushed myself away from the rails as the screams grew louder. I didn't want to see it. I didn't need to. Then a new sound hit me and I stopped cold. Someone was laughing. I whirled around.

I had been moving on instinct, desperate to get to the railing in time. I hadn't even paused to think about who or what would be behind me.

It was the boy who was laughing. I barely gave him a glance, but my fists curled at my sides, my right hand going for my wand. But I had only eyes for one person, who was staring back at me with his usual emotionless black eyes.

"_How could you_?" I screamed, hysterical. I swung my wand up and the laughing stopped, but I could have cared less what that little bastard was doing. My attention was focused only on the coward of a man who stood in front of me. I knew I was crying. How many times I had felt hot tears roll down the side of my face that night, I had stopped counting. No, everything was so wrong. There had been no plan, nothing to help Harry hunt down the Horcruxes. Dumbledore hadn't even started looking. But what killed me on the inside wasn't the fact that he had died at the wrong time. Dumbledore had been unable to strike down the potions master, a man he had trusted. A man he had helped, protected. A friend he had been unable to stab in the back. Dumbledore could have retaliated. He could have killed Snape in just a thought. But he hadn't.

Snape didn't move, his face blank and indifferent; he looked away as if he was bored.

"You coward," I spat, the wand in my hand shaking as I ranted. "You're a traitor. A foul, lying, two-faced – "

Someone yelled and my feet disappeared from underneath me. I flew backwards, my head slamming against the barred railing before I hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of my lungs and stars dancing around my head.

"Clam down, Finnian," Snape's voice seemed so far away as I fought to pick myself up. I got to my knees before my grip slipped, my head still spinning as if the world had been tipped upside down. The ground was just as hard the second time, the side of my face scraping against the stone floor. I cried out as someone pulled me roughly to my feet, their hands grabbing fistfuls of the back of my robes.

"Is this who I think it is?" The growl was too close to my ear, his hot breath searing the back of my neck. I yanked my head to the side instinctively, biting my lip as a sharp pain spread quickly from the side of my forehead that had smacked into something hard. Behind me, the voice cried out in pain and the hands on my clothes suddenly disappeared. I didn't waste a second scrambling as far away as I could, grabbing onto the railing for support as my legs trembled underneath my weight.

"Damn you!" Finnian shouted, his nose and upper lips smeared in his own blood. I couldn't help the surge of satisfaction that swept through me, even though it was squashed the moment he raised his wand, just about ready to strike me down. I was moving too slowly, my fingers slipping as I brought my own wand towards my face as a last resort.

"No," Snape's hand was suddenly wrapped around Finnian's wrist again. The boy struggled, his deep-set eyes contorting in rage. "She is to be left alive."

Finnian yanked his arm out of Snape's grasp roughly, but he didn't advance, turning around to curse again, nursing his bloody nose. "She needs to be taught a lesson," he wheeled around, his blood stained lips curled into an immoral sneer. But Snape stopped him again, grabbing the front of his robes, yanking back the young boy's sleeve to reveal his mark.

"Call him, now," Snape said, pushing Finnian away from him. Away from me. Finnian didn't reply, straightening his robes as he pressed his wand against the middle of the tattoo upon his arm.

The air seemed to grow denser. The night around us grew blacker, the winds picking up until my robes and hair were flying around me, my hand flying for the rail for support. Then it stopped, just as quickly as it had begun.

Voldemort stood in the center of the landing, the dark mist still surrounding him like a cloud of black smoke. It trailed off his robes like liquid, twirling and spiraling up into the sky and out of sight. He tipped his head back, breathing deeply as his body morphed in front of me, each part of him becoming more solid as the mist slipped away. He drew his wand before he opened his eyes, the dark red finding me immediately, piercing through me like a dozen knives.

I couldn't help myself. I backed up as if I were some kind of caged animal, searching for an escape route that wasn't there. My shoulders hit a stone pillar so hard I stumbled over my own feet, hands grasping wildly for a grip. Voldemort smiled immorally as I straightened myself, his bloodshot eyes glinting in the moonlight. His skin seemed even paler than it had been in the Ministry; he was so white it was almost translucent. It was awful. He was awful; a living nightmare.

Voldemort chuckled. It was a horrible, small choking sound. Or maybe it was me who was choking. The air around me grew dense again, every breath becoming even more labored. It was as if my lungs had been punctured; every time I drew in breath, it was never enough. I was panting by the time Voldemort stopped in front of me, but it wasn't from my sprint up the winding stairs. His teeth flashed in a grueling smile, yellow from decay. I wished I had something to say, something to yell. I would have even gone with the stupidly witty remark. Anything that would have gotten me to stop shaking like one of those naked dogs. My wand seemed as glued to my side as it had been when Dumbledore had jinxed me. I was so scared out of my mind that I couldn't move.

"And again we meet," his voice stuck me like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

His hand was coming closer, reaching for my face. I froze so quickly I stopped breathing, unable to tear my eyes away. With inches to spare, jerked my head to the side, pressing myself as flat as I could against the pillar. The side of my face smacked uncomfortably against the stone, but Voldemort stopped, the tips of his torn fingernails scraping the side of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt a finger trace my jaw, his unnaturally cold skin searing me as if I had pushed up against a flaming torch. I inhaled sharply through my teeth, cringing.

"Don't touch me," my voice had suddenly found its way back as I snapped. I was surprised the words didn't shake.

Voldemort didn't reply, his demonic eyes racking over my body. His lips twitched again, pale and cracked skin twisting into something that hardly resembled a smile. I didn't notice Snape had stepped forward form the shadows until Voldemort's wand flashed against the moonlight. Betraying myself, I flinched as the wand whipped past my face. I could have sworn Voldemort's immoral eyes flashed with amusement.

Snape paused before the wand, his dark eyes darting to the ground quickly before meeting my wild, pleading gaze. But I knew there was nothing Snape could do. Everything was falling apart. Dumbledore hadn't been sick, hadn't been already dying. The ring hadn't even been discovered yet.

"I wish to thank you, Severus," Voldemort said, turning around to face the Slytherin. "Your loyalty to me will be forever honored."

Snape, surprisingly, didn't react to Voldemort's compliment, and I doubted he hardly ever gave out any of those. His lifeless, black eyes had gotten darker since Dumbledore had disappeared over the railing, and I was starting to think it had nothing to do with the mention of Lily.

"Thank you, My Lord," Snape bowed his head at his words, making my stomach churn at the sight.

"My Lord," Finnian stepped forward, kneeling at the hem of Voldemort's robes, his head touching the ground as he bent over at the waist. His face was still stained with blood from his broken nose, but Voldemort did not see nor didn't care enough to mention anything. I would have bet my life it was the latter of the bunch. "I hope I pleasured you with my actions tonight."

Voldemort was clearly enjoying the sight of the boy bowing before him, his eyes glinting. "Your presence will be remembered."

Finnian stood slowly, trying to hide his expression of disappointment before he stepped back into the shadows again. Apparently a simple acknowledgement of his presence was nothing to be compared to Snape's brilliant act of loyalty. It was almost enough to make me puke.

"Though it seems we have come to one more complication," Voldemort paused as if to wait for a drumroll, his red eyes widening with excitement. "I wish for you to attend to the Malfoy boy," he spoke of Malfoy as if he was a thing. Not that he wasn't one. But with the words coming out of Voldemort's mouth, I suddenly felt another wave of rage for the boy who had caused me so much unnecessary trouble.

"Would you like me to bring him to you, sire?" Snape's eyes darted over his _lord's _shoulders, to meet my glaring gaze. They danced away just as quickly, back to Voldemort's unforgiving red stare.

"No, that won't be necessary," Voldemort's lips pulled back into the mirthless grin again. It was then Snape finally looked at his _master_ fully. I could even see the confusion in them.

"I don't think I –"

"The boy is no use to me now, nor will he ever be," Voldemort said. "You are to end his life by the time this siege is over. It shouldn't be too complicated to find him. He trusts you," he added with a laugh.

Snape opened his mouth like he was going to say something, resembling a greasy, black fish.

"Why are you hesitating?" I couldn't help myself. I stepped forward, my anger flaring. "Just kill him, just like you did Dumbledore. Or why not just wait until he's not looking? You wouldn't have to look him in the eye when you strike him down – "

"Silence, stupid girl," Voldemort breathed menacingly, his wand replacing the fingers that had been on my neck. I froze, my blood ice and heart stone, as he dug the point underneath my jaw. I slammed backwards against the pillar again. "Do not give me a reason to kill you."

Despite myself, his threat was enough for my mouth to clamp itself shut. But what in the world had Voldemort been talking about? I hated Malfoy's guts with ever fiber of my living being, but why would Voldemort go out of his way to assassinate him?

"But, Master," Finnian spoke, stepping forward from the darkness. "Isn't she the one who – "

Finnian didn't get to finish, as the next word had no sound. His hands clawed at his throat as if his vocal chords had been slashed, his mouth open in a soundless scream.

"Just because Bella enjoys your presence does not mean I will waver to strike you down if you do not redeem valuable," Voldemort hadn't moved his wand, which was still at my exposed neck. "You will do as I say, Severus," Voldemort said coolly as Finnian retreated backwards. He didn't look to be in any pain, but it was no silencing charm, as I still heard his horrified whimpers as he fought desperately to talk.

"Yes, sire, but – " Snape cut himself off as those red eyes flashed. Regaining his composer, he spoke again, this time more forcefully. "The Malfoy family has been loyal to you for years now, why would you – "

Voldemort lowered his wand slowly, but turned to point it at Snape's heart. "Loyalty isn't as strong as one may think, Severus." His eyes glowed again, almost like he was hinting at something. "The Malfoy boy must die. You told me yourself."

Snape only paused for a moment. "Yes, master."

"Good," Voldemort grinned, removing his wand from my neck to peer over the edge at the fight still going on below us. For one moment, I almost relaxed, my muscles threatening to sag underneath my weight. But I froze again as he stepped closer, so my heart practically stopped as he turned to stare at me with those dead eyes.

"Now, you wouldn't like to join me as I pry your headmaster's wand from his cold, dead hands, would you, Andrea."

I didn't even care that someone was laughing again, or that Snape still stood there like he was being forced to sit through another of Professor Binn's lectures. Voldemort's pale lips pulled back in a dark laugh in front of me as my eyes slowly widened. He knew. He wasn't just after Dumbledore, wasn't just here to kill every single living person that wasn't like him. But it wasn't the fact that he was minutes away from possessing the most powerful wand in the world that made me react the way I did next. I'd even admit now that what I did was incredibly stupid; like I had even stood a chance.

With a cry, I thrust my wand forward, a blinding flash of red light shooting from the tip. Voldemort was quicker though, his hand shooting out as if to stop the spell against his bare skin. The disarming spell stopped short, nowhere near of its intended target. But I didn't have enough time to defend myself as Voldemort suddenly stepped forward, his hand circling around my throat before I could react. I gasped as he threw me against the pillar, his cold fingers digging into my skin, his palm crushing my windpipe. My wand must have fallen out of my grasp as both of my hands were clawing helplessly at his grip, desperate to loosen their hold.

"Do you think you can attack me, girl?" Voldemort hissed. My mouth opened in a wild attempt to find air, and maybe shout in his ugly face that he was wrong. That the charm had never been aimed for – He pushed against my throat harder, cutting off my thoughts as my vision ran with black dots.

"Master," I heard Snape say, but it was too far off for me to hear the stream of words that came after. Voldemort's fingers were continuing to tighten around my neck, his long fingernails digging into my skin. But I could hardly feel those anymore. I struggled weakly, kicking my legs as he pushed me further up the pillar so that my face was above his, my feet no longer touching the ground. This was it. I knew there was no way I was going to get myself out of this one. It seemed almost ironic, as I was pinned against the pillar, Voldemort whispering something harshly that I couldn't hear, that I was going to die in such an _un_magical way. I would have thought strangulation would have been on the bottom of my list if I were in a world where you could just say a word and someone dies.

Suddenly the hand loosened, the fingernails pulling out of my skin as they slid down my throat, resting to press my collarbone back into the pillar. I was still dangling from the ground, but at least I could breathe again. The air seared the back of my throat like a flame, but I savored the feeling of my lungs expanding as I inhaled deeply. But that sensation was soon deflated as Voldemort leaned in again, his face inches from mine.

"If you want me to kill you," Voldemort growled, pressing my shoulders back into the stone as if to make his point, "don't think I won't hesitate."

"Then why do you?"

I cursed myself for opening my mouth. The remark had come so fast, I couldn't stop myself. But I wasn't trying to be witty. It was an honest question, as I had stopped counting how many times Voldemort had decided to torment me rather than just end it there. If he had wanted to kill me, I would have been dead hours ago. He kept threatening me with death, but he still continued to put it off. But, sadly, Voldemort himself didn't take it as a clear, direct question. His fingers threatened to close around my windpipe again and I craned my neck, my own hands latched around his cold, bony wrist as I desperately tried to push myself away.

Voldemort didn't answer, but suddenly the pressure upon my neck was lifted. I fell to the ground so quickly I didn't have time to brace myself, my knees buckling under my weight. They hit the ground hard, bruising instantly. Voldemort was saying something I couldn't hear, his drawling voice harsh and clipped. My head sagged upon my shoulders, but I forced myself to look up, hoping that I would catch a glimpse of my wand. But the only thing I did see was the shadow of their black robes as all three figures disappeared into the night.

I was still alive. I almost cried out, both of my hands going to my throat. I knew I'd have bruises in a matter of hours, but I didn't care. I was still breathing, my blood still moving in the veins. But the longer I kneeled there, the more I realized how worse off the situation actually was. Voldemort, no matter how many chances he had, had not killed me. I was relieved, of course, but deep down I knew it wasn't anything to be excited about. But there was also another issue that made my breath catch in my aching throat.

Snape was going to kill Malfoy.

I couldn't stay there, up safe in the Astronomy Tower, hidden as the rest of Hogwarts fought for their lives. Grabbing my wand from where it had fallen, I took the stairs as fast as I could, flying over two and tree at a time and onto the landing below. Around me, Hogwarts was in chaos. Rubble littered the castle. Holes as big as giants were blown in walls. But it was the screams. The castle itself seemed to be echoing the sound of a hundred dying people.

I had no idea what was going on. But as I ran through the ruined corridors, only one thought ran through my mind. Stop Voldemort. And if Voldemort wanted Malfoy dead, I was going to do anything in my power to keep that Slytherin prat alive.

I saw her hair before I actually glimpsed her entire body, crouched behind a fallen piece of the ruined wall behind them, a slab of stone that was longer than a school bus. Beside her, a girl with cascading blond locks knelt in the dust, reaching for her wand from where it rested behind her hear.

"Ginny?" I reached for her without waiting for her to turn around. "Luna?"

Ginny threw herself at me, her arms going around my neck in a strangling hold. I glimpsed Luna's pale face through Ginny's flaming hair, but the Ravenclaw's lip was split and there was a nasty bruise on her right temple.

"Andy," she sighed into my hair, "I'm so glad you are alright." She pulled away, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips before it melted from her face as quickly as it had appeared. "When you disappeared and we couldn't find you, we all thought you were – "

A grinding sound of shattering stone echoed through the hall, a long, piercing scream

Ginny shoved me against the wall as two Death Eaters suddenly rounded the corner, their wands raised and masks glaring at us in an etched snarl.

"_Avada Kadavra_!"

I threw myself to the ground as the jet of green light shot over my shoulder. Ginny rolled away to the left, forced to the ground as a Death Eater sent a curse straight at her middle. Beside her, Luna raised her wand, but the Death Eater was faster. The jet of green light shot out the end of his wand just as Hogwarts itself screamed, the entire castle shaking. The Death Eater in front of me lost his footing, falling the floor as a loose piece of rock came sailing through the air, pinning his legs to the floor. The Death Eater screamed and I slashed out with my wand, getting to my feet with just enough time to watch Luna hit the ground in a spray of blond hair, her eyes closed.

"LUNA!" I screamed, but Ginny raised her wand first.

"_Reducto_!"

The blast was so powerful I was knocked off my feet, my head slamming back into the ground so hard my vision went black. My ears were ringing. I tried to stand, the world tipping sideways as I fell again, the side of my head striking a small piece of the shattered wall. But somehow I managed to crawl, the palm of my hands digging into small rocks so hard that they bled. Above me, Ginny still stood with her arm outstretched, glaring at the spot where the Death Eater had stood moments before.

"Luna," I couldn't find my voice, everything coming out in only a whisper. "Ginny, help me." Luna wasn't moving. I had seen the green light. The killing curse. My hands reached for her, shaking her shoulders.

"Luna, no," I cried, staring down at her listless body. "This can't be happening. No, please not you. Not now! God, _please_!" I couldn't do this. She wasn't dead. Luna couldn't die. I screamed again, a horrible, tortured sound I didn't even recognize.

"Andy," Ginny was yelling in my ear, pulling me backwards. "She's fine. Luna's alive. He didn't hit her."

I froze, my eyes still on Luna's still face, not truly believing it. Ginny grabbed my hand quickly, holding it under Luna's thin jaw. A pulse raced underneath my fingertips, barely there, but still beating.

"A rock struck her before he could get a good aim. She's just unconscious."

I cried out with joy, throwing my arms around Ginny. I buried my face into her hair, pulling her back behind the giant slab as more yells sounded around us.

"I thought – I thought she was – " I couldn't make myself finish it.

"Where's Harry?"

My eyes flashed open, my breath catching in my throat at the sound of his name. I had almost forgotten, but at the thought the horrible exchange that had happened only hours before raced through my mind. Then Voldemort's taunting remark. I couldn't tell her. I pushed Ginny away suddenly, pulling myself up to my feet.

"Get her out of here," I jerked my head towards Luna, who now had a thin line of blood trialing from the corner of her mouth.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"I have to find Malfoy," Ginny looked at me like I had just said I wanted to jump of Big Ben.

"Why do you need to – "

I didn't give her a chance to finish, turning on my heel and sprinting through the smoking halls, leaving her alone with Luna. I tried to help anyone I passed, Stunning Death Eaters left and right. They seemed to be everywhere, their number greater than anything that had ever been mentioned in the books. Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be another masked face just waiting to kill me. I dodged countless killing curses and Stuns by the time I had made it to the east wing, the side of my face splattered with blood that wasn't my own. I turned the corner fast, my eyes scanning over the ruins. How was I supposed to find Malfoy in this mess? I rounded another corridor, making my way to the Great Hall. If I couldn't find Malfoy, I would go straight to Ron and Hermione. They would know what to do.

But I never got that far.

Ahead of me, someone screamed. I propelled my legs to move faster, my eyes trained on the black spot at the end of the hallway as it tackled a smaller body to the floor. A scream echoed again, the back of her curly hair hitting the cold ground as the Death Eater pinned her to the floor, his hand reaching up to rip the mask off his face. With a growl, Greyback barred his teeth, yanking Lavender's head to the side as he bent over her, one last terrified scream rippling through the air before it was silenced with the sound of ripping flesh.

"_NO!_"

With a cry I blasted Greyback off his feet and into the wall behind him hard enough to hear his bones crack as they hit the stone. The werewolf fell to the ground in a heap of black clothes, his bloody mouth opening in a limp snarl. I fell to my knees over Lavender's pale body, shaking as I took in all the blood, scratches and the open bite mark that had torn most of the skin off her throat.

"No, no, _no_, _no_, _NO_!" I screamed so loudly my voice cracked, my throat burning as the word passed my lips. I pressed my hands against her neck in one last hope, the blood seeping through my fingers so fast I gagged. She couldn't be – Greyback wasn't supposed to attack her now. My fingers were shaking as I pushed hair out of her face with a bloodied finger, leaving a sweep of red on her cheek. Her expression was relaxed, almost peaceful, her pink lips slightly parted. Her eyes were already closed, almost giving her the appearance of sleep. I was too tired for tears, but I knew she was dead. My hands fell limply into my lap, stained in her blood. Around me, the battle raged on. But I wasn't calling it that. It was a slaughter.

"Professor, no. _Please_! Don't"

A voice pulled me away from Lavender's body and towards the main hall. It echoed from around the corner, yelling loudly as heavy footsteps sounded. I jumped up at the sound of Malfoy's plea, leaving Lavender's body behind me as I skidded around the corner, a sharp crack of a Stunning spell hitting the wall above my head. I slid to the ground on my knees, ducking behind one of the large suits of armor. With a sinking feeling, I realized all of them were still in their positions upon their plaques. McGonagall, still in the hospital, had never gotten the chance to move them. Hogwarts had never been able to defend itself. But I was distracted as Malfoy's silvery hair caught my eye, his arms waving wildly as he retreated backwards, the potions master feet in front of him.

"What do you think you are doing?" Malfoy didn't have his wand. He raised his empty hands, retreating even farther until he had almost reached the end of the hallway. He stopped as Snape raised his wand, his dark eyes lifeless. Malfoy cringed in fear, tears streaming down his face as Snape cornered him.

"Please, Professor, you can't – "

Snape's arm moved so quickly I barely had a chance to react. Malfoy had stepped back in horror, walking right under a balcony that overlooked the first floor corridor from the main staircase. A brilliant stream of red light shot from the tip of Snape's wand, soaring right over Malfoy's head and into the base of the outcropping of heavy stone.

The entire hallway seemed to shake. In mere seconds a roaring sound filled the hall, a large crack splitting the rock. Malfoy screamed, raising his hands over his head as the balcony shook dangerously, crumbling to pieces around him. A large part of the banister smashed into the floor beside him, the impact vibrating through the floor. I knew this was my only chance to get Malfoy out of there alive. I had to be quick.

Malfoy tired to run, but the balcony was breaking apart too fast. His grey eyes darted towards Snape, terrified and pleading: the exact expression Dumbledore had been wearing before the same man had pushed him out of the Astronomy Tower. Snape raised his wand again and the balcony shook even harder, Malfoy's last scream echoing through the castle as a large piece of rock fell, striking him in the head. He fell hard, out cold as rock continued to fall around him, barely missing his sprawled limbs.

The moment Snape turned I made a run for it. As much as I wanted to curse him, the balcony was just about to fall apart complete, ultimately crushing Malfoy underneath a thousand pounds of broken stone. Arms over my head, I darted into the mess of rubble, wand raised. It took longer than expected to reach Malfoy; a large piece of stone clipped my elbow, dragging me to the floor. I cursed, pushing myself back on my feet, already feeling the stinging sensation of split skin as I bent over Malfoy's body.

I had only moments. The balcony made a grand noise, the entire slab of rock splitting into two above my head. Barely even thinking about it, I threw herself over Malfoy, covering his body with mine. There was another grinding sound as rock slid against each other, the balcony becoming completely detached. I screamed this time, but it was a single, coherent word. A single spell I was depending upon to save a boy's, who had caused me so much pain, life. As I ducked my face into the back of Malfoy's neck, I told myself I was going to kill him personally if we survived this. My wand seemed to vibrate in my hand, a searing sensation rippling from its core so hot that I almost dropped it.

That's when the balcony collapsed.


	36. Broken Bones, Broken Hearts

I had to be dead.

Looking back on it, a part of me knew it had been a suicide mission. I hadn't been thinking rationally, my hatred for Snape masking every other emotion in my body. But why would that change my thought about Malfoy? Why would I go out of my way to save someone who probably wouldn't think twice to help an innocent child? Yet, when had I ever thought rationally?

I groaned, turning my head to the side as a throbbing sensation rushed through me. My eyes shut in pain, every nerve aching. I could feel every cut, every burn. It was like I had been tossed into a washing machine, turned over and over again until my head had been hit so many times I couldn't tell up from down. Cursing softly, I pressed the palm of my hand to the skin above my ear, gingerly tracing the outline of a swollen bruise. Every pulse ached through my veins; every thought pierced my head as if someone was pressing the tip of a knife slowly into my temple. Since when did being dead hurt that much?

"Andy?"

The voice sounded hushed, as if I was hearing it through water. I struggled, twisting in the bonds that held me down. My legs were trapped. Red-hot fireworks exploded behind my eyes. The voice was calling out for me, sweet and gentle. My body was sluggish to respond; attempting to sit up was an entirely different effort on its own. Suddenly, hands were on me, pressing into my shoulders and pulling me back down. I barely resisted, collapsing, already out of breath. The floor was cold, seeping through my clothes like liquid. My neck was sore, my throat on fire. If this is what Heaven felt like, I didn't like it.

"It's alright, Andy, it's over."

It was over? I didn't understand. My mind whirled, more fireworks exploding. When I tried to open my eyes, my vision ran red. What was over? The battle? There had been no battle. No one at Hogwarts had ever stood a chance. The voice was back again, whispering something in my ear. It was a girl. An angel? I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against a white light. I could make out her golden hair, the glare like a halo around her head. The silence and blurred vision seemed to end suddenly, as if I had been startled. Everything came into focus like someone had pressed a button. The muddled whishing that had filled my head disappeared. Someone yelled and I twisted my head sharply, looking directly into a pair of wide blue eyes.

"_Luna!_" I cried, sitting up and scrambling backwards. My fingers twisted in rough fabric and, looking down, I realized I was lying on a makeshift cot. The discolored sheet that had been covering me was thrown to the side; the pillow that had been under my head was dotted in red droplets.

"Hello," Luna smiled, cocking her head to the side. Her white teeth practically glowed against the blood that stained her lips. There was a large white bandage wrapped around her head like a headband, and her robes were torn down the front, her Ravenclaw tie shredded at the tip. Her face was covered in dirt, almost as if someone had just picked up a pile of debris and tossed it to her when she hadn't been looking. The dirt had been washed away in places. It was like someone had taken a thin paintbrush to her face, the trails cutting through the coat of grime. I tried not to notice the dried tears, concentrating on her pale eyes. If Luna had been crying – I didn't want to think about that.

"Luna!" I cried out again, reaching for her and pulling her into a rough embrace. She giggled lightly, wrapping her arms around me. I buried my head in the mess that was her hair, gasping. From over her shoulder I recognized the Great Hall. Or what had once been the Great Hall. The tables had been removed, though bits and pieces of benches still scattered the floor. Dishes and cups were everywhere and scorch marks decorated the walls as if someone had taken to it with a blowtorch. There were hardly any windows still intact. The clear glass panes were missing, and I didn't want to turn around to look at the gaping hole that once was the stained glass masterpieces. I knew they were broken, just like everything else. Cots like the one I had been lying on where everywhere. The ones who weren't injured walked around, bending over bundles of blankets and bandages that I realized, with a sickening lurch, were students. The Great Hall that had once been so beautiful had now been turned into an infirmary. I cringed, pulling Luna closer to me and ducking my head in the side of her neck. Somewhere, a girl was crying hysterically for her mother. Trying to block out her screams only seemed to make it worse. I tried to distract myself. I tried to focus on the fact she smelled like smoke and burnt hair.

"You're – you're – " My tongue seemed too thick to form any more coherent words. She was alive. A little banged up, but alive.

"You're crushing me, Andy," Luna said calmly. I opened my eyes immediately, pulling away as quickly as I had grabbed her. But Luna was still grinning wildly.

"I'm sorry." The throbbing was coming back again. My adrenaline rush was over, and it was already starting to have an affect. I reached for my head, resting my elbow upon my knee. Closing my eyes for a moment, I fought to keep the wave of vertigo that had suddenly hit me at bay. The last thing I needed to do was make myself sick. When I turned to her, I couldn't help but smile. "It's good to see you, Luna."

Luna smiled her crooked, wide-tooth grin. "I am glad to see you are alright too."

I smiled grimly. "So I'm not dead?"

Luna laughed, throwing her head back. Her cackle was so loud that heads turned, but I couldn't care less. No matter what happened to her, no matter how ugly it got, that girl could not be broken.

"Nope. Just a bit worse for wear, I suppose, but you'll survive." Luna cocked her head to the side again as if her comment confused her. After a moment's hesitation, she opened her mouth again. "Though I don't know if I can say that for everyone."

The smile slid slowly from my face as I took in everything around me. I searched the crowd, over the heads of dozens. Some were in their cots, while others stood in small groups, heads bowed. A girl and a boy were hugging; the girl's face was pressed against the boy's chest. The boy had his chin rested on top of the girl's head as he stared unseeingly at the wall, quiet tears streaming down his own face. I blinked, twisting my head back around, looking one last time for the familiar flash of white.

"Luna," I said, "where's Malfoy?"

Luna didn't answer, instead lifting her arm to point one long finger in the direction that the staff table once stood. I didn't see him at first; the mass of cots and bodies were difficult to see past. But it was his hair that caught my attention. It had always been his trademark, but the platinum strands seemed unusually stark against the see of black. Luna didn't ask why, which I was secretly grateful for. The last thing I needed to do was explain everything that had just happened when I barely understood it myself.

Pulling myself up out of the cot was harder than it had been to mount the thestral. Luna had her hands around my waist before I even realized I was falling. Stumbling, I managed to right myself. The bump on my head wasn't throbbing as badly as it had been, but I still felt like someone was holding me a few inches below a tank of water. My head swam unpleasantly, my vision blurring. But I pushed Luna away as soon as I felt steady on my own feet. I didn't have any time to waste standing around feeling woozy. Mumbling thanks, I told Luna that other people were in need of her help more than I was. She nodded, her pale eyes stealing one curious glance in Malfoy's direction before turning towards a small third year who had broken her ankle.

He was sitting alone. At the time, it didn't occur to me how strange that was that there weren't two shadows added to his own, or even a dark haired, fawning, hormonal teenage girl. But at that moment Malfoy wasn't anything to fawn over. His head was bent over his knees, which were curled up against his chest. His back was to the open window; he seemed unaffected by the amount of shattered glass surrounding him. The stained pieces crunched underneath my feet as I stepped closer. Malfoy's head shot up at the sound and I froze, forgetting conceal my gasp. There was a large gash running across his cheekbone, directly under his left eye. He was covered in white strips of bandages; a part of his sleeve was gone, his upper arm bound tightly in a cloth as pale as his own skin. A large bruise the size of a tennis ball discolored his hairline. But his battered body wasn't what made me stop. The eyes that I had once come to dread were no longer haunting. The cold grey held an emotion that I had never seen before, least on the boy who thought that he had everyone in Hogwarts in the palm of his hand. His gaze slid past me for a moment, over the tipped chairs McGonagall and so many other teachers had sat in. When they finally came to rest on me, his eyes were shadowed, more broken than his bones would ever be.

"What do you want?"

I hesitated. He didn't stand, still staring from his spot in the corner. "What did Snape say to you, before . . . "

Malfoy's eyes dropped at the mention of Snape. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking at the moment. A man he had trusted with his life had just attempted to end it. Angry probably wasn't even the beginning of it.

"Not much." Malfoy stared back at his hands. One of them was splattered in blood. "I thought I was going to follow him out of the castle, but when he turned around –" He stopped. When he turned towards me again, his eyes were clouded.

"Why did he try to kill me?"

Every nerve in my body wanted to turn, wanted to run. I didn't want to be there, not when everything else was falling apart. Focusing on the cut underneath his eye, I cleared my throat. "Do you have anywhere you could hide?"

Malfoy blinked, turning back to look at his bloodstained hands. "Hide? My family . . . my family has safe houses across the country."

I repressed a knowing snort. Of he would have a safe house. And not even one, but multiple. "That even Voldemort doesn't know about?"

Malfoy thought for a moment. "Yes."

"I would suggest you lie low for a few months." The eyes that had once been unwilling to meet my gaze were now unmoving, fixed on me with an expression I couldn't place. I was uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to let him see it. "At least until everything –" I was going to say 'blows over', but as I thought about it, I was starting to think it never would. I cleared my throat. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd stay away."

Someone from across the room yelped in pain and Malfoy jumped, his eyes darting, his curled form left cowering like an animal cornered in a cage. I knew I wasn't going to get anything else out of him, that continuing the conversation would be pointless. But I hesitated.

"_Andy!_"

I whirled. My eyes scanned over the Hall for the voice, the deep voice that had made my heart skip. He had come back – after everything, he was here. My dream had just been a dream. I was already smiling, my lips forming his name when Neville came running up, his faced flushed.

"Andy! I'm so glad I found you!"

I must have looked like a fool. I was still smiling, still waiting for the head of black, unruly hair that would suddenly pop up out of nowhere. My gaze skimmed over Neville, back over the crowded Hall. His glasses would be broken, his face splattered in blood. But he would be there, he had to be.

"Andy?"

My mind put it together quickly, but not quick enough. The stupid grin that had overcome my face disappeared as if someone had slapped me. My eyes focused on Neville, his red cheeks, the hair plastered to his forehead. He was talking to me, but I couldn't hear him.

" – has been looking for you. What happened?"

I must have looked confused, because Neville barely stopped.

"It's alright, Ron and Hermione are fine. I was with Ginny earlier. We split to find you."

I was so stupid. Harry wasn't there. As much as I wanted to believe it, to wish it, nothing I did was going to get him to show up. For all I knew, he was –

"ANDY!"

I vaguely remember Neville's arm around me and Ginny was suddenly there. She smelled like dirt and her clothes were singed, but she was alive as well. Ginny hugged both of us, squeezing me so hard I felt a bit guilty for Luna, wondering if I had truly grabbed her that tightly. When Ginny pulled away I saw the large scratch that covered most of her jaw. Her lip was split and her nose was red with dried blood.

"After you ran off, I had that awful feeling that I was never going to see you again," she said.

"Ah, you can't get rid of me that easily," I grined. Ginny chuckled, slapping me gently across the shoulder.

"How did you end up in here? I was all over the castle looking for you."

"I don't know," I said. "I woke up to Luna hovering over me."

"Luna's here?" Neville said. I nodded, barely able to point in the direction before he was gone.

Abruptly, Ginny glanced around quickly as if she was searching for something. Her smile melted slowly as she took in the Great Hall, her eyes narrowing.

"Ginny," I said. My voice sounded small. I didn't know why I was suddenly afraid. The attack was over. "Are you okay?"

"Have you seen Harry?" Ginny said. My limbs turned to ice. "I went looking for him after – " Ginny stopped searching, her eyes coming to rest on me; she was completely distressed. "Andy, he's not here. I know he's not here."

I hesitated, unable to wipe the knowing look off my face. Ginny was many things, but she wasn't stupid.

"Andy, where is he?"

"Ginny, I – " I hesitated. I didn't want to watch her react the same way Harry had.

"_Andy! Ginny!_"

I could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hermione!"

Ron was with her, his eyes as wild as his hair. They looked as if they had been through hell and back. But I knew I was hardly any better. Hermione's hair was fierce, and so was her expression. I was already starting to regret feeling relieved that she had interrupted me, even if I didn't know why.

"Andy, have you heard?" Hermione said. Her eyes were puffy, red from crying. "Dumbledore – Dumbledore's dead." Her voice cracked. Everyone around me shifted their eyes, even the people who were listening in on our conversation. Hermione didn't seem to notice them. "His body – he fell from the Astronomy Tower!"

"Snape killed him." It was almost a reflex. As if I was trying to get rid of the blame.

"Snape? How do you know?" Hermione let out a sob again, turning to bury her face in Ron's chest. Ron looked down at me from over the top of Hermione's head, wrapping his arms around her. His usually vibrant blue eyes seemed dark his face creased with lines that aged his appearance.

"Andy," Ron said, his voice eerily calm, "where's Harry? When I couldn't find him, I reckoned he was with you."

Everyone turned to look at me in the same moment, three pairs of eyes on me at once. I froze, not knowing where to look.

"Andy," Ron repeated slowly when I didn't answer. His grip tightened around Hermione, if it was intentional or not. I took a deep breath. I couldn't hide it any longer.

"Harry's not here."

"_What?_"

"He . . ." I searched for the right words. There were none. "He left."

"Andy, what are you talking about?" Ginny looked like she was going to slap me. I wouldn't have blamed her if she had.

So I told them. I told them everything. From the moment I had met Neville on the train to Voldemort's appearance in the ministry. I told them about Umbridge, about Snape's betrayal. About Harry himself. The longer I talked, the deeper Ron's eyebrows seemed to furrow on his forehead. As I told them what had happened in the past twenty-four hours, the confused frown on Ginny's face slowly turned into a scowl. Hermione's expression never changed, her usually warm brown eyes stone against her pale face. I was beginning to get unnerved, their stares enough to cause me to look away, to find a spot above their eyes, as long as I didn't have to look at them. I barely noticed when Ron started shaking his head (I had been staring intently at a freckle on Ginny's forehead), but I stopped mid-sentence as he grunted dismissively. My mouth hung open for a moment, my pause long enough for him to start mumbling incoherently to himself.

"What?"

Ron was smiling, but it made my blood run cold. "You expect me to think –"

"Think what?" I snapped.

"That you would do this."

"That I would do what?"

"This" Ron lifted his arms to wave them around his head in a crazed motion. "All this – "

"I'm not lying to you, if that's what you're hinting at."

"You're not lying? Oh, who would have guessed?"

"_Ron!_"

"I don't believe you," Ginny said suddenly. "Harry would never run off like that. Not if he knew – "

"That's the thing, no one knew," I said, running my hands through my hair. "I didn't even know."

"You didn't know?" Ron was fuming. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"That's not what I meant, Ron," I said.

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That explains it, Hermione!" Ron wasn't looking at any of us anymore. His skin was a fresh, new shade of red. "I mean, it does fit, doesn't it."

"Wait just a minute, Ron!" I was trying to hold my ground, trying to explain. But I knew it was going horribly, horribly wrong. And just like the last time, there was nothing I could do about it.

"Wait for what? There is nothing to be waiting for!"

"Hold on."

It was at those two words my heart sank. Hermione had stopped sobbing long enough to look at me clearly, and it was not a look I appreciated.

"Why would Harry run off if you told him that? It doesn't make any sense."

"Because you knew about the Ministry," Ginny said slowly, barely missing a beat. "About Sirius."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

"You knew?" Ron whispered. It was almost as bad as him screaming at me. In fact, I knew right then I would have the latter. "You knew he was going to die?"

"He – " I didn't want to say yes. If I said yes, it made me seem like a murderer. I was not a murderer. "He was already going to die."

"So you did know!" Ron's voice was rising. I hated the screaming as much as the whispering. "You knew it was a trap!"

"I protected Harry." I said. "I protected you. All of you. You don't think I'd do anything to do that?"

"Harry loved Sirius," Ginny said. I stopped, my mouth open. She could have smacked me across the face and it wouldn't have hurt as much as those words did. "Harry _loved_ him, did you know that?"

"Of course I knew that." Now I was whispering. I couldn't look at them anymore.

"Then why?"

I forced myself not to stutter when I picked my head up to stare them in the eye. I wasn't going to look away. "If you knew - " I shook my head. "I couldn't save him. He was supposed to die."

"_But you didn't even try!_"

Ron's sudden outburst caused me to start.

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't even try to save him, did you?"

"He was supposed to die, Ron, how was I going to save him?"

"That's not what I said," Ron spat. He actually spat, his face contorting. He stopped then, a pure silence hanging in the air.

Ron's words sunk in slowly. He was right. I had done nothing to save Sirius. Instead, I had held Harry back as he had tried to save his own godfather. I had stood by and watched.

"You know, there's a difference between you and Harry," Ron stepped forward, pulling Hermione with him. It took me a moment to focus on him. "I see it now. Harry was willing to drop everything to save my father, no matter how crazy everyone thought he was. And you didn't even stop twice to think about his own godfather."

"_What?_" I shouted. Beside me, Ginny cringed. "Is that what you think I did?"

"No, that's not what I think you did," Ron said. His face was growing red again with anger. "I _know_ it."

"You don't think I wanted to save Sirius?" My heart was sinking slowly. It was playing out the same way.

"I don't know," Hermione moaned. She closed her eyes. "This is all so confusing."

"Harry's in trouble, Hermione," I blurted. I wasn't going to keep any more secrets from them. "I know he is. When he left – he was captured."

"Captured by who?" Ron said.

"Voldemort."

The color that had once flushed Ron's face was gone. Hermione had gone rigid. Ginny gasped, her hand going for the pocket inside her robes. I held out a hand timidly. "Please, you have to help me. We have to find him before it's too late."

"You're lying." Ron was shaking his head again. "You have to be lying."

"I'm not lying, Ron," I said calmly. I had to keep calm. For their sake as well as mine.

"No, you are lying. Voldemort would never – " He swallowed hard.

"Ron, he has Harry." I left out the part about the dream. They didn't need any reason to doubt me now. "He has Harry, but Harry is _alive_. We still have a chance."

It was silent for a moment. I let out the air I had been holding with a shaky breath.

"No, Andy," Ron said. "See, this is where I know you are lying."

"What are you talking about? I already told you, I'm not lying." My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout, I wanted to make them understand. But I knew that wasn't going to get me anywhere.

Ron looked like he was going to be sick. "Voldemort would never take him alive."

He was true, and I knew it. All of the times I had read of Voldemort, he was a character of death and destruction. When he met Harry in the Forbidden Forest for the last time, he had barely waited a few minutes before he struck him down. "I don't understand it either, please," I said. "But I swear to you. If we don't find him now, I'm afraid we'll be -"

"Stop! Just stop!" Ron said, cutting me off. "We can take it, Andy, you don't have to make this up." Ron was crying, tears streaking down his face. "You don't have to cover this up like you did to Harry."

"But I'm not covering anything up!"

Ron made another disgruntled grunt. He stepped away from Hermione, who was looking at me like she had never seen me before.

"_Please_, you've got to trust me."

"I don't know," Hermione's gaze didn't waver. "If Harry didn't trust you, I don't know if we can."

It took me a moment to respond. No. I hadn't heard her right. My head was still swimming in that imaginary tank of water. That rock had hit me just a bit too hard. "You can't be serious, Hermione."

Hermione didn't answer. She turned away too, to look back over the crowd that had gathered. There was always a crowd.

"Come on," I took a step forward. Ginny stepped back. I froze, staring at her in horror. "Please, I'm not – "

"You need to leave."

Ron's voice was so low I barely heard him. But I didn't have to think twice about what he said. When he turned to me, his face was hard, set into a scowl. He was going to cry again. I felt awful. I couldn't do this to them; it wasn't my fault. But I was also starting to rethink that as well.

"Ron! Please, don't – "

"I'm not asking you," Ron said, drawing his wand. I backed up instinctively, horrified. He stepped forward, pointing the wand directly at my heart.

"You can't – " My gaze was pleading. I was begging. Ginny adverted my eyes. So did Hermione. Ron's own gaze was set. I couldn't stop him.

"_Please. . ._"

"Get out, Andy," Ron said. Tears were running down his face again. He screwed his eyes shut once, shaking his head one last time. He stepped forward again, his wand inches from my chest. "Leave."

I ran. I ran just as I had run earlier, past the people watching, past the piercing gazes. The doors to the Great Hall were gone and I bolted through the gap without pausing. The halls were hardly in better shape; Bits of stone littered the floor. The hundreds of paintings that had decorated the entryway were gone. The doors to the courtyard were open, the tip of the sunrise just visible above the bridge. I stopped, staring out the wide gap. The colors radiated gold and orange, dancing off of the scarred stone and burnt floors. How could something so beautiful come out of something so ugly?

They hadn't believed me. They had yelled at me, just as Harry had yelled. They had blamed me. They didn't trust me. I was starting to cry, hot tears rolling down my face. I didn't stop them; I couldn't stop them. They had thrown me out. I was nothing to them but a fraud. I gasped, pressing a hand over my mouth as another sob racked my entire body. Didn't they see how much it was hurting me? Couldn't they see all that I had done? Ginny and Hermione had stood there silently. I couldn't believe them. My blood flared unpleasantly, shooting through my veins like fire. But most of my rage was towards Ron. He would have cursed me, and I had known it. There had been nothing stopping him. But I couldn't blame him, could I? He was just trying to protect Hermione and Ginny. But they didn't need to be protected from me. None of it was my fault. I had done nothing to change their lives, so why did I have to suffer?

My thought was cut off when someone cursed. I whipped around, towards the staircase. Or what was left of the staircase. The entire left side was missing, the stone steps just hanging in the air. On the first step was a student, a boy with bright blond hair. He was struggling, slowly making his way up the right side of the steps. There was a bright white bandage wrapped around his head, and his green-embroidered hood was torn in half. It only took me a mere second to realize who was walking away from me.

"Malfoy!"

He froze, turning around so quickly I wouldn't have thought I had just seen him limping. His wand was in his hand; it was clenched tight in his gasp, so tight his knuckles were faded white. I ran towards him fast enough to see his eyes widen with recognition. He made to turn around again, but I was already at the staircase

"Did you know?"

"I don't think I understand – " His eyes were down. He was trying not to look at me.

"You know perfectly well what I'm asking," I said, my voice rough and unkind. But I didn't care. When I stepped forward, Malfoy retreated up another step. "Did you know about the attack? Did you know Voldemort was planning to break into Hogwarts?"

Malfoy didn't answer, but that was all the evidence I needed. I whirled around in frustration, turning back to look at the Great Hall. "I'm not here to yell at you, as much as I might want to, Malfoy," I said. When I glanced over my shoulder, Malfoy was watching me curiously. It took me a few tries to come up with the nerve to say what I said next; I turned to face him fully. "I need – I need your help."

I had been wrong, there was nothing different about Malfoy. He smirked, his eyes flashing, not even trying to hide his sarcastic snort. "You need _my_ help?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. If you knew about – " My throat suddenly felt tight and dry. I swallowed hard. "If you knew about tonight, then do you know where they are going to go? What did Voldemort say he was going to do?"

The smirk immediately melted off his face. Malfoy cringed at the sound of Voldemort's name, eyelashes fluttering like someone had slapped him. "He – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did speak of plans," Malfoy hesitated, thinking hard, "but why would you want to know?"

Could he really be that stupid?

"Look," I shoved a finger towards his chest. Malfoy jumped back as if I had pulled a sword on him. "I may have saved your sorry little pureblood ass, but that doesn't mean anything has changed between us. Don't think I've suddenly forgiven you for all you did."

Malfoy pushed away, shoving my hands off his robes. Anger flared across his face like a ripple of water, contorting his bruised face. "All I've done? You _broke_ my nose."

"And I'll do it again if I have to. Don't mess with me, not now – " I couldn't help it. My voice cracked. I stopped, pressing my lips together tightly to prevent anything else from slipping past them. Tears were already starting to burn in my eyes, and my dry throat was searing. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I wasn't going to let Malfoy watch me cry, not if I could help it. Turning away before he could see, I turned, walking deeper into the entryway, deeper into the castle.

"He knew something," Malfoy called out. When I turned around he looked surprised, as if he hadn't been expecting me to answer. Lowering his voice, he sent a cautious look over one shoulder. "Something even . . . even Dumbledore didn't. He was planning to use it against the entire Ministry, against the world."

"What?" I wiped my face with the back of my palm, over my mouth and across my left cheek. "A weapon?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know. Why would you think I would know?"

I threw my arms up into the air, my throat starting to throb uncomfortably again. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you belong to a family of Death Eaters."

Malfoy, if it was even possible, went pale. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you can think whatever you want," I said. "But that's not the point. Harry's gone, and I need to find him."

"You thought I was going to help you find Potter?" Malfoy said incredulously. From the bottom of the stairs, his hair glittered in the rising sun, but his face was sunken and shadowed. His eyes flashed again, his expression darkening. "If that's what you want from me, then you should have let the balcony crush me."

At first, I didn't know what to say. I was stunned that he would say such a thing, that the thought had even crossed his mind. Letting out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, I stared unblinkingly into those grey eyes, the anger that had fueled me so long ago replaced only by pity.

"You don't understand, do you?" I didn't even wait for him to respond. "Why doesn't anyone seem to understand? This isn't about you, for once in your life. This time it's more than that. But no, you can't leave your ego far enough behind you to help me. If I don't find Harry – " I was going to start crying again. At my side my hands clenched into fists, my fingernails digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood. Anything to distract me. "Harry's the only hope you have left to a normal life. Do you want to live as a fugitive? The moment Voldemort figures out you're alive, he'll kill you. . . You know what. I'm sorry I asked." I turned my back on Malfoy, towards the empty school. "Go back to your little posy of friends and smirk over the grieving children. I'm done with you."

My footsteps echoed through the silent corridor, and it was then I noticed where all the paintings had gone. Canvases were strewn across the ground, over and under the rubble. An empty frame by a marble dragon missing a wing was broken in three pieces. A young girl decorated with a crown of flowers hid behind a tattered curtain in her painting, the red roses on her head drooping and gone altogether in some places. Most of them were empty though, scratched and scorched beyond repair. I could feel Malfoy staring at me, his gaze boring a hole into the back of my head. But all I wanted was to get out of there, and the sooner I did that, the better.

"My friends are dead."

I barely heard him. Turning slowly, I saw that Malfoy had moved. He stood facing me, one hand on the broken step closest to his left shoulder.

"Did you think that just because we are Slytherin that we would be spared?" Malfoy's eyes weren't flashing then; I could have sworn they were glistening. "They killed Vaisey and Graham over by the library. I didn't have any time to react." Even though I had no idea who Vaisey and Graham were, I kept my mouth shut, waiting to see if he would continue. Malfoy seemed to realize what he was doing, that he was actually talking, and started, turning around to face the wall behind him. I should have just walked away, but something made me hesitate.

"Why would Voldemort be killing Slytherins?"

"How should I know?" Malfoy was suddenly screaming. He still didn't turn, pressing his head into his hands, his shoulders hiding his face. "Why does everyone expect me to know? I don't know what's going on! I don't know why this is all happening! Why can't anyone just take that for an answer!"

The hall rang with his voice for a few moments before I could think of anything to say. Part of me wanted to comfort him; I knew he was crying. Part of me just wanted to hug him and cry, to sit on the floor and let it all out. But it was Malfoy. Malfoy hated me as much as I hated him. But I still felt myself taking a few steps forward. Malfoy glimpsed me underneath his arm, and his pale face actually flushed for the first time. He sniffed, wiping his face with his bandaged arm, twisting away quickly. I didn't reach out to touch him; my hands were limp at my sides.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Truly, I am."

Malfoy's shoulders stiffened. He let out one last sniff, and when he turned his face barely showed signs of distress. His cheeks were still pink, but his normal skin tone was already beginning to settle, draining away the color. His eyes were still glistening, but they held no trace of tear.

"What are you staring at?" Malfoy barely wasted any time getting back into his usual persona.

"Nothing." I dropped my eyes to the floor. A crash from the Great Hall caused us both to turn. I blinked, staring at the side of his face as he turned. My heart felt like it had been torn out of my chest and stomped on, yet still beating. He had been my last hope, my last chance of understanding. Of finding Harry.

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

As soon as I turned, I let the tears I had been holding back fall silently. I had gotten nowhere. I was alone again. My footsteps echoed eerily, becoming more thunderous the deeper I walked into the castle. There had been more damage than I had thought. Entire walls were gone, windows smashed, doors left in splinters. Coats of armor were scattered in pieces, one of their swords embedded deeply in the stone wall next to a tipped trophy case. Bronze and silver medals lay thrown across the floor, surrounded in glass as thin as snow. I was no closer to finding Harry than I had been the moment he had walked away. Stopping suddenly in the hallway, I screamed aloud in pure frustration, kicking a piece of wood out of my way. It hit the wall with a hallow thud. Nothing made sense anymore. Voldemort wanted Harry, but he wanted him alive. I didn't know whether or not to be hopeful or terrified. If what Malfoy had spoken of was true, if Voldemort really was waiting to use something no one saw coming, a secret weapon, then all hell hadn't even begun to break loose yet.

"Goodrich!"

I started at the sound of my name, whirling as heavy footsteps sounded. My wand was in my hand in less than a moment, my lips already forming the curse that would knock the assailant off their feet, maybe through one of the shattered windows.

"_Stop!_"

Malfoy was suddenly standing in front of me, pushing my arm to the side as a jet of red light shot from it. The curse hit the wall and ricocheted, darting across the corridor and off the hilt of the sword stuck in the wall. The sword itself shattered in an amazing explosion, bits and pieces of metal racing through the air, razor sharp. Malfoy threw his arm out, pushing me to the side as he waved his wand, deflecting the shrapnel with a flick of his wrist.

"I don't want to talk right now, Malfoy." It took me a moment to adjust myself; the encounter had stunned me more than I wanted to admit. I was gasping, leaning against the wall.

"Did you just try to curse me?"

"No – yes – " I shook my head. "It's just you were – stop it! Malfoy, what are you doing?"

Malfoy stepped back, placing his wand back in his robes. "I thought it would be simple."

I frowned, pushing myself off the wall and past him, not even taking a second glance. I didn't need to deal with Malfoy. What he had said back by the Great Hall had been enough. Trying to get anything out of him would just be a waste of precious time.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy said. I ignored him, shoving my own wand back into my robes. I had already developed a weak plan: stay focused long enough to get into Gryffindor Tower, if it's still there, grab everything you need, and then get out of the castle. I'd figure out what to do after that then.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Malfoy seemed to realize he wasn't going to get me to stop. I heard his heavy footsteps again, running as he fought to catch up with me. "Goodrich, I said stop!"

"You already told me what I needed to hear, Malfoy," I said, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of looking him directly in the eye.

"I didn't say anything!"

I snorted in disgust, turning into the next corridor. It was as bad as the one I had just stepped out of, if not worse. Malfoy was saying something again, but I wasn't listening. Then it was quiet. I continued walking, hoping that I had lost him, that he had gotten bored. That was when I felt something close around my arm. I twisted, my other arm wheeling backwards as I threw my fist over my shoulder. Malfoy's hand shot out and grabbed my fist, which had just been inches away from his face.

"I'm not going to let you do that again." Malfoy threw my hand down, letting go of my arm at the same time. I ignored the comment, trying desperately to control my anger. He stepped back, as if I was going to take another swing at him. "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish what?"

"I'm going to help you."

I coughed, not entirely sure I had heard him correctly. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. It had all been said in a rush, as if he had been trying to get it out as quickly as he could. "You are going to what?"

"Don't act like this is such a surprise," Malfoy sneered. I was a bit sad to see that his ability to make a mockery of everything hadn't been injured. He shifted his weight, as if he was uncomfortable. His eyes were everywhere but me.

"Don't act like it?" I said.

"I told you I didn't say anything, and that was true. I might have mocked you back in the Great Hall, only because I was surprised, but I didn't disagree."

"_You_ were surprised," I said, frowning again. Inside my head, I bet myself he couldn't go two minutes without feeling sorry for himself. "Whoops, my bad."

It was Malfoy's turn to ignore me. He turned as if he was going to stalk away, but just ended up walking in a circle. "You know what, I'm sorry I said anything."

"No!" I said quickly, reaching out. My fingers brushed his shoulder, the thin material of his robes sliding from underneath my fingertips. He stopped, turning; his face was shadowed even though the morning light streamed through the windows.

"You are going to help me?" I couldn't stop my eyebrows from rising in surprise. "Really help me."

His eyes raked over my face before he answered. I suddenly felt exposed, as I had back all those months ago in the secret passage. "Snape tired to kill me. If my mother and father ever knew I was alive – " Malfoy cut himself off, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes roughly before continuing. "It will kill them on the inside to think of me dead, but you are right." He spit out the words as if they had bit him, as if the thought of me being the correct one just poisoned him. "If Potter's going to end up saving the world, God save us then."

"You're serious?"

Malfoy nodded, a barely-there motion. His eyes held mine, steady and clear.

"You do know that if we get caught, they will kill us." I wasn't trying to scare him off. My heart had already been broken multiple times that night. I didn't think I could take it if Malfoy promised to aid me in my search for Harry, only to leave the moment my back was turned.

"If you thought I didn't know that, you must think I'm pretty thick."

I laughed even though Malfoy had been completely serious. He stared at me curiously as I stood there, giggling.

"You don't even know where to begin," I muttered low enough he couldn't hear. My head was screaming in protest, yelling obscenities in the back of my mind. A part of me knew I shouldn't be getting my hopes up, that what I was doing was extremely wrong. It was still Malfoy, the boy who would give anything to save his own life, no matter the consequences. He wasn't really the best ally, if he even was one. But I knew I was going to need all the help I could get.

I was going to find Harry.


	37. Note

Just wanted to let you guys know that I am continuing the story! Please go and check out the sequel and, even though it's still a work in progress, I plan to update regularly. :)

-flamingfawkes007


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